The Emerald Eyes: A Tale of Mutiny
by catgirlutah
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow has just recieved the Black Pearl as his ship. Someone doesn't like it at all. Plans are underway to make it so he loses his precious Pearl. There's a good deal of betrayal in here as well, from more than just Barbossa...
1. Spiders

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that you will see in later chapters ...which is a shame, seeing as I think they'd enjoy my house...and that way, I could be in charge of the next script... 

AN (5/31)-Well, I wasn't planning on having a prologue...but then again, I didn't plan on ending my other story so abruptly...so, here it is. I know it seems really odd, and doesn't make any sense, but remember, this is the prologue.

Prologue:Spiders (AKA The Chapter Entirely Devoted to Daisy)

"I hate spiders," a harried voice whispered, vibrating the fine, yet relatively strong, fibers of a web. The occupant of the fine workmanship, a spider about the size of the tip of a man's thumb, was holding onto the web for dear life. The figure who'd whispered such negative sentiments was busy concentrating on a web to his left, carefully taking the candle grasped in his weather beaten hands and lighting the web he was surveying. A large grin visible in the brief period of intense light as the dry web burned, he gallantly strode forward, right into another web. The poor spider, trying to hold to its home with all of its strength, was knocked onto the shoulder of the crabby figure as he tried to struggle his way out of the web, much like the efforts of a fish caught in a net. Fortunately for the man, but unfortunately for the spider, he was very strong and escaped with little but sticky threads on his cheeks as his arms flailed about and released the grip the web had on him.

The spider, anxious to leave the presence of this man, gingerly started climbing off the shoulder. It hadn't ever seen a human before, living its relatively short life in the cellar of an abandoned building. For as long as any of the spiders residing here could remember, this building hadn't been used. Ancient chairs with rotting wood were the perfect place to string large webs across, as the insect supply in the fairly damp room was more than ample to sustain the population of about thirty or so spiders at any given moment. The spider had nearly reached the end of the man's rather dirty shirt, preparing to make a large jump once it reached his fleshy hand. As one of its eight legs touched the tanned skin of whatever human it was riding on, the fairly stable arm started whipping back and forth.

"I've got a bloomin' spider on me!" the figure wailed as he moved his hands up and down more violently. As the spider was in the process of being dislodged, the rather nervous man blew his candle out and was stung by the hot wax as it fell to the floor. His left hand, on which the spider was now desperately trying to stay attached to, ran into one of the ancient chairs, causing it to fall over. All manner of insects began moving as their home hit the floor.

A figure in front of the other whirled around, a nasty frown on his chapped lips. "Ye ingrate! Shut yer bloody mouth, or someone will hear us!" The frightened movement of the other stopped as the one who'd just spoken stepped forward, grabbing the offending arm and squishing the spider with his thumb. "They're jus' spiders. No' goin' t' do anythin' to you," the man said rather nastily as he rubbed the insides of the now dead spider on the other man's cheeks. "How many times d' I 'ave t' tell ye to keep quiet? We can't get anythin' done if someone knows we be 'ere."

The other man gulped silently, fearing his leader's wrath. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking down towards the floor. He didn't really know why he'd agreed to follow the other man down into this abandoned house. The aura outside of the building was enough to make the hair on the back of the neck stand on end. Even in the fading sunlight, it had seemed to cast a spell of foreboding upon anyone who looked at it. The walls were composed of once white stones that were now slowly being cracked by the creeping vines surrounding it. It gave the illusion of being a haunted building, and the man was trembling slightly as they reached the other side of the room.

As his companion knocked on what appeared to be the wall, the other man glanced about in the very dark room, wishing he hadn't blown his candle out. He wasn't very superstitious, mind you, but he was rather alarmed at what was going on. In his twenty five years of experience, it wasn't the best idea to meet up with someone in conditions like this-absolute secrecy and in an abandoned building. Subconsciously, his hand went to his pistol as the wall opened up, almost as if by magic. There was an unseen door there, that creaked wearily as it moved forward. Shivering slightly, the man followed his leader into the dark abyss, wondering what sort of meeting was going to take place.

The light of the solitary candle flickered in the stone archway as the men began slowly descending a spiral staircase, littered with the faint outlines of spider webs. One almost felt like breathing was prohibited, subconsciously holding each breath until nearly exploding. Their footfalls echoed eerily in the tightly confined space, and the man without a lit candle felt his apprehension growing and growing with each downward step. He was half tempted to say something, anything, to his companion in an attempt to thwart the sense of foreboding, but he knew his companion wouldn't take kindly to anything said.

Finally the pair reached another door, and the surly older man knocked on it in a peculiar pattern. It opened with a large screech, sounding almost like ten thousand bats leaving their cave for the night, eager to begin making a dent in the insect population. They both walked into the large room.

Careful not to swear too loudly, the man without the lit candle looked around, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the high amounts of light in the spacious room. As his grayish-blue eyes did adjust, his lower jaw dropped in amazement, revealing several gold teeth and many foul, rotting teeth that would soon need replacement. The room was one of astonishment, especially after the trouble of getting to it. Fine silks were draped across the al frescoed walls which were faintly tinted a shade of canary. Romanesque architecture, including great pillars of white marble, were balanced perfectly across the whole room. The focal point was undoubtedly the picture of a emerald encrusted pentagon in the center of the room. Inside the rather large pentagon was the faint outline of a half man, half horse. The intensity of the centaur's emerald eyes seemed to draw the gaze of everyone within the room. One could almost believe that the stones in the eyes weren't actually cold, hard precious gems; but rather, one thought they were actual eyes, seeing everything going on in the curious room. After more surveillance, one could notice that the room was definitely pentagon shaped, as well.

After a quick jab from his companion, the rather tall man shut his mouth and carefully looked towards the chair in the exact center of the room. There was a man sitting there, with long robes that flowed regally onto the marble floor, looking almost like a fine velvet rug in Buckingham Palace. As the tall man tried to examine this new figure more closely, he was struck by how evil the man seemed. Though his face wasn't visible, due to a rather large hood, one could tell he was staring directly at both of them with a malicious look to his face. The tall man followed his rather squat companion towards the chair, his feelings of apprehension showing plainly on his rather squarish features. He really had no idea what to expect, for the squat leader with his dirty blonde hair had said nothing as to the reason they had come here.

"Does he have it?" the man in the robes asked, his voice sounding harsh and not natural, as if he were trying to mask it with his vocal chords. He turned his hooded head towards the squat man, the eyes inside almost glowing and faintly visible from reflected light.

The squat man nodded. "Yes, sir, 'e does. Saw it wiv me own eyes." Licking his foul lips, he coughed. "And wha' exactly do I 'ave t' do next?"

It was obvious that the man wearing the hood was smiling as he said, "Well, I think it is time we initiate the second part of the plan." His rather long fingers deftly moved about in his long robes, withdrawing a small piece of paper. He handed it to the squat man. "Wait until the opportune moment to give it to him."

The squat man eagerly nodded, as if trying to prove he was capable of such a thing. "I will, sir."

The tall man watched the interchange curiously, wondering why he'd even been brought along. He was soon to find out, however, as the hooded man turned his gaze to him.

"You've done as I asked," the man in the robes hissed. One could tell that the smile on his face had grown much more sinister by the way his voice sounded.

The squat man nodded. "Of course I did, sir." He pulled out his gun and pointed it at his companion. Quickly cocking it, he growled, "Now go to the center of the room."

The tall man glanced between the very persuasive tip of the gun and his supposed friend's face. "Why?" he asked plaintively as he moved to the center of the room. "All I've e'er been is a friend, M-" he was cut off as the gun went off and the bullet hit him directly in the forehead.

A slight scowl to his face as the tall man hit the floor, the squat man turned to face the hooded figure. "'E was always annoying. It was me pleasure t' bring 'im 'ere."

The hooded man laughed cruelly and waved his arm. "Thank you, faithful servant. I do not require any more assistance." His hand almost knocked over a fine marble statue of the same centaur that was inside the emerald encrusted pentagon. It had the same emerald eyes. However, as the squat man left and the hooded man stood, the emerald eyes of both the statue and the carving seemed to turn red.

As the squat man quickly shut the door and began heading up the stairs, the hooded man descended upon the body. The flickering torches abruptly went out as a foul wind filled the five sided room. The only light came from the carving and statue of the centaur, a crimson sort of light. The faint outline of the mysterious hooded man could be seen next to the body, and in a few short hours, there was nothing left but bones.


	2. Whiskey

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to write this...I do not own any of these characters, and I do not know how to read music...wait...why'd I put that? 

AN (6/2)-Right, here's the characters we all know and love...while you don't necessarily have to have read my first story to understand this, it will make things a lot easier if you have. So go read it, savvy?   
And I know that my last chapter was rather odd...it will all make sense later on, I hope...and I don't like the chapter name...but oh well...

Chapter 1: Whiskey 

Captain Jack Sparrow frowned, impatiently tapping his foot to the stones of the cobblestone walkway leading to a pleasant looking thatched cottage. As he considered knocking again on the simple oak door, he heard the faint sound of laughter from inside. Retaining the frown, Jack supposed it was his friend William Turner, who was commonly known as Bootstrap Bill, playing with his young child, the gender of which was still unknown to the pirate. He knocked again, much louder this time, as the laughter inside became louder. Jack swore softly, his hand subconsciously reaching into his pocket to touch the letter he'd received from Bootstrap nearly two months ago. The Black Pearl, Jack's pride and joy, had reached England with no hitches at all after Jack had abruptly ordered the crew to set sail for England.

As his long and tan fingers silently wandered over every crevice and fold of the letter, Jack looked around, his dark brown eyes full of disdain for his surroundings. The eccentric captain stuck out like a sore thumb in such a quaint township, even in the fading light. On his rather messy dark hair, Jack wore a bandana of a red color fairly similar to the color blood first is before it begins coagulating. On top of that bandana, he wore a curious tri-cornered hat, a memento from his mother years before. After closer inspection, one would see his eyes lined in what appeared to be kohl, making them stand out even more and adding that much more emphasis to them. Curious trinkets were braided into his free flowing tresses. One of which appeared to be a coin, curiously with three holes drilled down the bottom and with what appeared to be three identical earrings hanging off the holes. One might wonder why Jack had three identical earrings, but after taking in his full appearance, that question would die on the lips. Completing the look of a scallywag were fairly worn boots and a simple pair of pants augmented by a fairly clean white homespun shirt.

Jack, still glancing anxiously about as if he could sense someone was watching him, knocked loudly on the doors again. He most certainly did not like being in England again, especially in this little one horse town he found himself in now. Ruefully changing his frown to a sarcastic half grin, revealing several teeth that had been repaired with gold, Jack felt as if he could yell. He wasn't even sure if the young man he'd given a shilling to for directions had directed him to the proper house. For all he knew, the laughter he was hearing could be from complete strangers. Jack really didn't trust anyone in England, seeing as he'd been mugged and robbed all in the same day once. As if that wasn't enough, Jack was afraid that Lauren, Bootstrap's wife, would give him a very hard time. When Jack was about eighteen years old, he'd dressed up as a cleric of the Anglican church in order to repay Bootstrap for helping him fake his own death. He'd "married" Lauren to Bootstrap, seeing as the robbery in London had left Bootstrap nearly destitute and unable to pay for a cleric. Well, that was the reasoning Bootstrap had given Jack, but he had the feeling the scallywag hadn't ever really intended on marrying Lauren. The sea was too fickle a mistress to allow someone to encroach on her sailors for long. Jack supposed that the reason Bootstrap had wanted to meet with him was because he was rather sick of being "respectable".

With a slight shiver of apprehension, Jack watched as the door opened in slow motion. Inside the doorframe was a fairly petite woman with wavy dishwater blonde hair and dark brown eyes similar to his own. Jack had been afraid of this. Lauren was sure to recognize him as the "cleric" who'd wed her to Bootstrap. As Jack carefully surveyed her facial expressions, it didn't even dawn on him that she was wearing a rather attractive green dress that perfectly complimented her rather curvy physique. A smile was frozen on his lips as he rather breathlessly awaited her comment.

"May I help you?" she asked pleasantly, carefully studying his profile. Fortunately for Jack, Lauren happened to be suffering from severe allergies at the moment and couldn't see properly because of a lapse in personal restraint just moments before in which she'd scratched her eyes. He was rather blurry to Lauren's vision, and she didn't even know if he was a man or a woman, due to his long hair flowing freely.

"Aye, I need t' speak with William," Jack said rather pleasantly, trying not to look too suspicious or nervous. At least he knew that this was the proper house.

Lauren nodded, turning and disappearing into the light of the cabin. After a few moments, in which Jack occupied his time by drawing rather naughty things onto the door frame with his finger, the light hitting him in the face was stopped as someone else stood in the door frame. Jack's face broke into a wide grin.

"Well, tis abou' bloody time," Bootstrap murmured under his breath. "Why, 'ello Jacob! Fancy seein' ye 'ere!" Bootstrap was grinning as well, the faint sunlight still shining making the gold on his own teeth sparkle as he brushed a lock of brown hair out of his face.

Jack chuckled, figuring that the last sentence was said for the benefit of Lauren alone. "Aye, William, tis been a while, eh?" Jack quipped, taking in the appearance of one of his greatest friends. Bootstrap looked as though he'd aged five years since Jack had last seen him, though it hadn't been nearly that long-only about three. Bootstrap still didn't have much fashion sense, for he was wearing a rather hideous combination of two beige colors that were different enough it looked ridiculous. At least they weren't clashing as violently as some of the clothes Jack had seen him in before. On top of his beige shirt, that was approaching what appeared to be the color of foul teeth stained by tobacco, was a red vest. It looked fairly new, and Jack supposed that Lauren had picked it out for Bootstrap. She obviously had the most fashion savvy of the family. In Bootstrap's hair was a rather curious looking feather. Jack had a hard time not looking at it through his kohl-lined eyes. He'd never seen a peacock feather before, except in India, where it was considered a death omen. Wondering why Bootstrap had the curiously colored feather that appeared both blue and green at different angles in his hair, Jack merely held his hand out.

Bootstrap chuckled and took Jack's hand, shaking it rather vigorously. He'd missed the unique appearance of Jack Sparrow. Turning to his wife, he said, "Lauren, I haven' seen Jacob since before we were married. Would ye mind if we went an' 'ad a drink?" As Bootstrap was so distracted, a young child approached the doorway and crept from behind Bootstrap, peering over his long legs.

Jack smiled down at the child, who happened to bear a rather striking resemblance to Bootstrap. "'Lo, there," he said quietly, watching the small boy.

The boy frowned, worry in his chocolate brown eyes. "You're a pirate," he said in the same quiet voice. It was rather remarkable that a child the age of three could identify one of the miscreants of society. Odder still was his obvious disdain and concern. What had Bootstrap been teaching his son?

Jack nodded slowly, looking back up as Lauren replied to her husband. "Well, alright, William. But don't stay out too late," she said with a rueful smile, knowing how he got when he had too much rum. "And Jacob, please make sure he doesn't drink too much whiskey," she jokingly added as Bootstrap gently pushed his son back inside the house and started shutting the door.

"I won't, ma'am. Promise tha' William won' 'ave any more than I will t' drink." Jack heard Lauren's laughter in response as Bootstrap pulled the door firmly shut. Grinning from ear to ear, Jack quipped, "Ah, so ye have t' take orders from a woman, eh?"

Bootstrap nodded, scowling at the look he was getting from Jack. "Well, a' least I know 'ow t' take orders, unlike some powder monkeys I know." He looked rather poignantly at Jack.

Jack laughed as they began walking down the cobblestone pathway towards the main road and some sort of tavern. He thought of making some glib comment about the fact that he was the one giving orders now, but decided against it. There was certain to be a more opportune moment while they were both drunk. Jack had only told Lauren that he would make sure William had as much as he did, and Jack planned to get three sheets to the wind to best enjoy their reunion.

* * *

"Jack, mate, ye don' know 'ow 'appy I was t' see those bloody kohl-lined eyes o' yers," Bootstrap said as he slapped Jack on the back. He grinned, raising his mug of newly bought whiskey, courtesy of Jack, up to his mouth and taking a very large swill of it. He hadn't had the liquor for nearly two years, seeing as Lauren had put a stop to his forays to the tavern after that time he'd gotten so drunk he'd caused a scene at church. It had involved some rather nasty language after dropping the hymnal to the floor after the congregation was finished singing and as the minister prepared to preach. Lauren had been so ashamed it almost looked as if her cheeks were on fire, for everyone had heard the language in the almost complete silence and had stared at them. 

Jack coughed into his flagon of rum. That was one trait of the fairly tall pirate Jack had forgotten. After regaining the proper use of his mouth and throat, Jack quickly downed his rum. "I'd imagine tis abou' 'as 'appy as I was t' see yer face. Thought tha' Lauren would recognize me fer sure." He gulped a bit dramatically, grinning.

Bootstrap laughed. "Ah, Jack, ye were jus' lucky. If I'd a known ye'd be here by now, I would've made sure it was me answerin' the door. Din' expect Calico Jack t' come t' England tha' fast."

Jack shrugged. "Well, tha's because Calico Jack din' decide t' come at all, mate." He seemed morose, his voice sounding as if he were talking in hushed voices about the dead.

Bootstrap's face lost his silly grin as he put the mug noisily down. Whiskey sloshed over the tall, uneven sides of the fairly clean mug, spilling onto the extremely gritty table. As the small stream of the alcoholic beverage made its way down the table top, Bootstrap put one of his hands to his cheek, stroking his chin, almost like he had a beard, though he didn't have one to stroke. It made his otherwise serious look almost comical. "Wha' happened?" he asked after a moment of what seemed to be stressed silence.

Jack frowned, as if preparing to tell the man with chocolate colored eyes something ghastly. "Well, William, abou' 'alf a year ago, Calico Jack was shot by Commodore Dennis. After a horrid period o' no wind, in which we all nearly died of starvation, well..." Jack looked down at his fingers, as if working the up the courage to say something.

"Well what?" Bootstrap asked after Jack's pause had driven him to near nervous breakdown. He'd respected Calico Jack from the moment he'd signed onto the Pearl's crew nearly eight years ago. Subconsciously, he bit down on his lip, wondering what had happened that had made the normally fairly jovial Jack Sparrow so melancholy.

"He gave the Pearl to me, after retiring," Jack said as he broke out into a large grin. He took a large drink of rum, watching his friend through his inquisitive dark brown eyes.

Bootstrap looked ready to hit Jack upside the head. As he frowned at the eccentric man he now knew to be a captain, he muttered rather sarcastically, "Well, I think tha' 'e would've done a be'er job by handin' the Pearl t' Snide Shaine, mate. At least 'e wouldn' get 'is friend all worked up like tha'."

Jack chuckled. "Ah, come on, William. Jus' a spot of fun 'til we get down t' business."

Bootstrap laughed sarcastically. "Ah, yes, trickin' me in'o thinkin' Calico Jack was dead was mos' certainly fun." He eyed Jack carefully, anger apparent in his chocolate brown eyes.

Jack frowned. "Alright, mate, I'm sorry." He sighed rather thickly, putting the flagon of rum up to his mouth and drinking an ounce or so. That accomplished, he put the rum down on the simple table and pulled out a letter. "Wha' is this all abou', anyway?"

Bootstrap regained his rather jovial demeanor. "Din' I explain it in the letter?"

Jack shrugged-the letter had been rather cryptic and hard to read because Bootstrap had written it in a hurry. "All tha' I got out o' this was tha' you were sick o' bein' respectable."

Bootstrap nodded, swearing for effect. "O' course I'm sick of it, Jack." He sadistically smiled. "I'm bloody sick o' havin' to do the right thing. Sick o' the looks people give me when I say somethin' colorful. Sick of havin' t' do the same bloody thing o'er an' o'er. We 'aven' e'en been attacked by any pirates or anythin', seein' as me boss hires the Navy t' protect us. No' e'en worth nickin' any o' the cargo, either. Jus' bloomers." He sighed and nearly finished off his whiskey.

Jack nodded sympathetically. "So, ye wan' t' turn scallywag again, then? Ye sure? I mean, ye 'ave a li'le boy, an' Lauren won' like how ye're ne'er here. You realize tha' I'll only sail t' England af'er much naggin' an' such from you. I really don' like England."

Bootstrap laughed. "Ah, Jack, I already knew tha'. An' I'm prepared t' leave Will an' Lauren behind for a stretch. They'll manage-I've already tole Lauren tha' I'm gettin' a better payin' job from ye."

Jack coughed a bit uncomfortably. Maybe that was why Lauren had failed to mention he looked familiar. "Well, alright." Something suddenly hit him. "Wait a moment-'ow could ye know tha' I was the one offerin' jobs, if ye thought Calico Jack was still cap'n?"

Bootstrap grinned, his golden teeth reflecting the flickering candlelight of a small form of wax in the center of the table. "Well, yer not me only correspondent, Jack. Why d' you think I sent the le'er t' ye?"

Jack frowned as he glared at the other man opposite him. "Ah, so ye already knew Calico Jack retired, then? An' you thought it would be funny t' trick me?" He sighed. "Well, I should've expected somethin' like this from a curmudgeon like yerself."

Bootstrap chuckled, looking very pleased with himself for actually tricking Jack Sparrow. "Ye mus' be losin' yer touch, boy. Either tha', or ye were too happy t' get a note from me t' think much of it."

Jack was loathe to admit either of Bootstrap's options. "Jus' finish yer whiskey, William. I'm sure tha' Lauren is startin' t' get a bit anxious as t' when 'er big eunuch of a husband will get 'ome."

"Tetchy, are we?" Bootstrap clucked his tongue to his front teeth. "So, does this mean ye'll take me?"

Jack sighed and nodded. "Against me better judgment, I'll let ye back on'o the crew. Jus' make sure tha' ye behave, William, an' tha' ye keep Lauren sufficiently 'appy wiv some of yer pay. I'd 'ate fer 'er t' come lookin' for us, an' find out tha' yer really a pirate."

Bootstrap smiled and finished off the rest of his whiskey. "O' course I'll behave, boy. I am William Turner, af'er all."

Jack rolled his eyes rather poignantly and stood. "Though I might say somethin' similar, William, it really doesn' 'ave the same effect when ye say somethin' tha' conceited. Yer not talented enough t' pull it off believably."

Bootstrap merely shrugged. "Well, tha's true. I'm no' 'alf as conceited as ye be, boy." He stood as well, frowning at the empty mug of whiskey. Too bad he'd said something so soon. Jack obviously didn't want to purchase him any more alcohol. It was a shame, really, seeing as one glass of whiskey wasn't nearly enough to make him happy.

Jack chuckled, noting the expression on Bootstrap's face. "Don' worry, mate, I'll let ye get as soddenly drunk as ye want, af'er ye leave the presence of yer wife. Jus' thought ye would like t' be somewha' sober the las' night 'ere for a long time. I plan t' leave a' noon tomorrow."

* * *

WaNdA-Aye, it is somewhat similar to Harry Potter...though, I didn't intend it to be...shame on me. Anyway, glad to see you leave your sentiments behind! Thanks for bothering to read the oddness of the last chapter...

starwarsfreakford13- Glad to find you still confident in me! Thanks for the support all throughout the last book, and for the support so far for this one!Cat Rina-Sorry it took me so long to update...but thanks for leaving your sentiments! Have a cookie, new reviewer!ChaosLightning13-Well, that's partly because I'm rather odd...and partly because it isn't meant to make any sense yet. That's why it is the prologue. Anyway, glad to see you read it!sunkist3208-Confusion is fun, though! I go through my whole life being confused...anyway, thanks for leaving a review, poppet!Daisy- Very creepy...poor little spider! He died...sniffles Anyway, hope that you enjoy this more normal chapter...Thanks for all the fun hats! They make for quite a fun look, you know...wearing one on top of another. 


	3. Frigid

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to write about these characters. If Disney lawyers really wanted to, I suppose they could sue me for using them...probably would get after me kidnapping Jack first though...how else would I know his past? 

AN (6/28): Okay, okay, I know that it took me forever to finally finish this chapter. I had the torments of writer's block...and no slinky to counter-act it...any who, I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though I don't like it...but then again, I don't like anything I write, really. And sorry about the whole only one space between sentences, seeing as Dreamweaver strips them out. So annoying...I have to go through and fix that eventually.

Chapter 2: Frigid 

"Jack, I 'ave a favor t' ask ye, mate," Bootstrap Bill Turner asked as he calmly walked up to Jack's figure at the helm of the_ Black Pearl_. They couldn't be leaving England on a finer day, for the clouds were vague white shapes often times resembling horses or people; at least to those with some sort of imagination.

Jack, who'd been staring off at a fairly curvy clump of clouds with a grin on his face as if he could see something there no one else could, jumped at being addressed."Ah, there ye be, William. Almos' thought tha' Lauren 'ad convinced ye t' stay." His face developed his trademark grin as he serenely surveyed the taller man. "Wha' is it?" he asked after a moment of gazing through his dark brown eyes into Bootstrap's almost chocolate colored ones.

Bootstrap coughed, a look on his face suggesting that he was a bit flustered with his request-that, or he was a bit flustered with addressing Jack as his captain. "Well, Cap'n Sparrow, I 'appen t' know a young lad tha' insists on comin' wiv us." He pointed down to the docks at a young chap with wavy brown hair.

Jack wanted to gasp as his eyes followed Bootstrap's pointing and he saw the man, but resisted the temptation. "Does 'e know wha' sort of men we really be, mate?" he asked quickly, trying to get a better look at the man. Something about him was very familiar, indeed, and Jack wondered how he'd been able to see the man before if he'd only been in England once.

"Aye, 'e knows wha' we be," Bootstrap said with a sigh. "I le' it slip las' night af'er 'e took me t' the tavern as a goodbye."

Jack frowned, turning his stare from the brown haired man to Bootstrap and giving him a slight look of disappointment. "Ye let it _slip_? Did anyone else 'ear?"

Bootstrap quickly shook his head. "No, Jack, no one else heard-Matthew jus' wanted t' say goodbye. 'E really isn' tha' bad. Not as "respectable" as Lauren. Please consider takin' 'im on, mate. I know 'e'll work hard."

Jack sighed, inwardly wondering what Lauren had to do with anything. "Alright. Bring Matthew up 'ere, an' I'll give 'im a bi' of an interview. Don' wan' 'im t' think I'll jus' trust your word, William. Might think I'm rather daft."

Bootstrap nodded and scurried off the Pearl towards the docks much like a mouse would flee from a hungry, yet playful, cat. He was lost amidst the bustling crowds for a moment, but Jack saw him returning with a man with wavy brown hair and a look mixed between absolute fear and excitement. Jack chuckled, watching Bootstrap help the lad onto the deck of the _Black Pearl_. Based on the way the lad was moving, it was very apparent he'd never been on a ship before. It was quite comical to watch him over-compensate for the relatively small swells in the protected harbor of South Hampton, England.

Before Jack really had a chance to think of some rather hard questions to ask Bootstrap's little friend, Jack found himself looking at the man with light brown eyes and wavy hair warily. "So...William 'ere says tha' you wish t' join me crew, eh? Any particular reason?"

The man shook his head, the sunlight glinting off his amber-toned hair much like light goes through honey. "I'm just sick of England, sir," he said with his eyes facing the deck of the _Black Pearl_, slightly wary at what the man before him would say.

Jack appeared to be deep in thought as he slowly started circling the man. "D' you 'ave a name, mate? Or do I 'ave t' refer t' ye as William's friend?" Something about the man seemed very familiar, but Jack could not place where he'd seen him before.

The man nodded, idly brushing a lock of his hair back behind his ear. "Matthew Porter," he said slowly, apprehensively watching Jack's reaction.

Jack's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't let any more of his surprise show. No wonder Bootstrap had mentioned Lauren while talking of Matthew-Matthew was Lauren's brother. "Ah...good fine name, I suppose. D' you know anythin' about sailing?"

Matthew, who hadn't expected to be assaulted by so many questions this fast, shook his head somberly. "No, sir, I 'ahvn' been on a boat before." Noticing the slightly wounded look in Jack's dark brown eyes, he quickly added, "Ship...I've never been on a ship before. Especially not one this nice."

Jack nodded his agreement, glancing about his beloved _Black Pearl_ with a satisfied grin on his face. "There's none finer in the Caribbean, mate." He looked towards Matthew, carefully sizing him up. He was a bit scrawny to be a pirate, but then again, Jack was sure he'd looked rather scrawny to Bootstrap. Life on a ship tended to help even the most delicately built men fill out with bulky muscle. Though, Jack himself had a lithe body still. "So, mate, wha' made ye decide tha' there's a place on the _Pearl_ for ye?"

Matthew nodded, somewhat half-heartedly as he calmly surveyed Jack surveying him. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, like any good interviewee does during a job interview. After a few moments, he calmly said, "Because if ye don' let me join yer crew, I'll tell me sister, Lauren, tha' you're the man who "married" her t' William."

Jack could not keep his mouth from dropping slightly. He certainly hadn't expected Matthew to blackmail him. Keeping his face relatively unreadable, Jack appeared to be in thought. "Well, mate, I wouldn' really mind tha'. However, I 'ave the feelin' tha' William would beat me up if she found out." He glanced over at his long-time friend, who was nodding so vigorously his light brown hair was bouncing into his light brown eyes. It was very comical looking, and Jack was having a rather hard time keeping his face straight. After a moment's pause, he concluded with, "So, I really 'ave no chance bu' to let you come aboard the _Pearl_, mate." He grinned wanly, extending his left hand to the young man.

Matthew looked relieved enough that it almost seemed he could melt away into the deck of the _Black Pearl_. He stood there for a moment, glancing at Jack as though to make sure he wasn't pulling his leg. After several rather awkward moments, Matthew broke into a large grin. "Aye aye, Cap'n Sparrow!" he said as he reached forward and shook Jack's hand. "You won't regret this decision, sir."

"I hope not," Jack said after prying his hand away from Matthew's own sweaty palm. "William!" he said loudly, looking towards his sometimes clumsy friend. As Bootstrap obediently made his way over, he said, "I want ye t' show Mister Porter 'ere 'ow things are run on a ship like the _Pearl_. An' you'll be in charge of 'im...if I find 'im slackin' off on his duties, he'll get thirty-nine an' a half stripes across the back, savvy?"

Bootstrap nodded, putting his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Aye, Cap'n Jack, I'll make sure tha' the whelp takes 'is share of the work. Ye won't regret yer decision."

"I'd better not," Jack said somewhat sarcastically as Bootstrap began leading Matthew away. He wasn't too sure if he'd made the right decision anymore. At least there was always the opportunity to merely leave the man behind on some sort of beach somewhere...

* * *

"Tha's cold," Bootstrap managed to spit out of his dripping wet mouth while he tried to calmly hold onto the railing of the _Black Pearl_. Though there had been fine weather leaving England, the Atlantic Ocean was never one to let ships sailing on it go without some sort of fight. The _Black Pearl_ was currently trying to capsize itself, not liking the intense pounding of the waves that crept up on deck of the highly-manuverable ship. The crew didn't like that much either, all of them walking about on deck like Jack normally did, struggling to keep from being washed off the deck like insects. As the wave that had hit Bootstrap slowly ebbed its way to the edge of the _Black Pearl_, a fine white substance started to sprinkle into his disheveled hair once more, giving him the impression of getting gray hair instantly. 

Jack merely nodded, tightening his grasp on the _Black Pearl_'s helm. His knuckles turned an even whiter shade than they'd been before, even though they'd already looked about the color of a shark's sharp serrated teeth. Now they resembled the intense white of the bones of a whale that had been bleached by the sun for nigh unto a year. "Of course tis cold, mate," he said with a grin to mask his own discomfort. Watching his breath slowly disappear in the frigid air, Jack's grin slowly faded. He hadn't ever felt this cold before, having grown up in the Caribbean and spending most of his days sailing on the warm waters surrounding the numerous islands.

A few moments of silence passed between the two as Bootstrap watched the crew scurry about on the very slippery deck below. The snow seemed incredibly odd aboard the _Black Pearl_, and the ship itself didn't like it. The wood underneath their feet was groaning much more than it usually did, as though the_ Pearl_ was protesting the treatment it was getting the only way it could. Another wave washed over the deck, high enough to reach the bridge again. This one was even higher than the last, however, and both Bootstrap and Jack thought that the men down below on the main deck were sure to have been swept off. Once the cold waters abated again, both men were surprised to see that no one had been swept off, though the men were now running towards the cabins to get some sort of cover. And who could blame them?

Jack glanced at Bootstrap, very much aware of the fact that they were the only ones above-deck now. His hands seemed frozen to the _Pearl_, though that really was impossible. "Why din' you tell me snow was so cold, William?" Jack asked with a weak chuckle, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

"I figured tha' we wouldn' hit any, Jack," Bootstrap said in response, grasping the railing even tighter as the_ Pearl_ nearly turned over. "It is only November, af'er all. Usually don' get snow like this tha' early." His hair seemed completely white, as did his shoulders. The snow was quickly turning to thick slush as it hit the sea water still aboard the deck.

"Oh, I see," Jack said a bit sardonically, wishing he were still in the Caribbean. He really hadn't planned to go get Bootstrap so soon after receiving the _Pearl_. The last time Jack had said goodbye to Bootstrap, he'd seemed very reluctant to return, despite his assurances he would. Jack frowned as the wind changed direction, blowing his hair into his face and making some of his trinkets whip into his very cold cheek. Not that he could feel the impact, seeing as his cheek was numb, but he was fairly sure it would leave a bruise and possibly even a cut.

Bootstrap started chuckling as he glanced at Jack's very cold face. "Ye 'ave ice on yer beard, boy." He looked as if he might move his hand to point at Jack, but his hands seemed frozen in place around the railing. The _Pearl_ rocked violently to the starboard side, a wave coming up from the ocean and sweeping all the slushy snow off the deck.

Jack frowned, wondering if that were true or not. He hadn't felt his chin in nearly an hour. But, Bootstrap was right. His curiously braided beard (which Jack wore in two braids) happened to have translucent ice coming off the bottom. "Aye, well, ye 'ave ice on yer nose," Jack retorted. Which was true-the melting snow on his nose had frozen at the tip, giving Bootstrap the appearance of his nose melting. A sudden tap on the shoulder made Jack nearly jump and rip his arms off the helm as he turned and faced whomever had frightened him so much.

"Cap'n Jack," a voice said with a cold ring to it, chilling the air several degrees. "The storm is gettin' worse. I sugges' ye go inside before ye freeze t' death." Hector Barbossa, his cool grayish-blue eyes full of what appeared to be worry, was standing regally in the storm, ignoring the snow as it fell into his nearly blonde hair. Barbossa had a curious hair color-in some lights, it appeared blonde, in others, brown, but the first few hints of gray were sneaking their way into whatever color his hair was.

Jack nodded, knowing that Barbossa was right. It wasn't like standing at the helm was really doing anything. The sails were down, and currently inside the hold in an attempt to keep them from freezing. Frozen sails did no one any good, as the ice crystals damaged the fibers and made the sails much weaker. And a ship couldn't really get anywhere without its sails. "I know," he said simply. Jack still didn't know what to call his first mate. Hector seemed too informal, and Barbossa seemed too formal, so Jack merely avoided saying his name at all.

"The _Pearl_ isn' goin' to go anywhere, Cap'n," Barbossa added sagely. "So, why don' ye come down t' the galley? Robert an' Daniel 'ave started a game o' cards, an' at least it's warm in there." Barbossa's face seemed like he was disgusted with the whole idea of playing cards, but there was still concern in his voice.

"I know," Jack said again, feeling as though that's pretty much all he ever said to Barbossa's advice. Of course Barbossa was correct-there really was no point in staying at the helm of the _Black Pearl_ at all. He wouldn't be able to actually do anything to move the _Pearl_ back on course until the snow stopped falling. Plus, he couldn't even move the rudder. Jack had a sneaking suspicion that the rudder was pretty much frozen in place. His desire to stay on the deck really made no sense at all, and he knew he was just endangering Bootstrap's life by his odd refusal to go inside. After a moment, he said, "Well, then, I suppose I will go inside. An' we'll open one o' the barrels of rum, t' 'elp keep the crew warm."

"Good decision," Barbossa said with a slight bow, turning and walking to the galley after a moment of looking at Bootstrap through oddly shadowed blue eyes. His footsteps disappeared in a moment as the snow started falling at a more rapid pace.

As Bootstrap began prying his hands off the railing, he looked at Jack curiously. "Since when 'as Barbossa been actin' tha' civil?" He started rubbing his hands vigorously together after breaking the thin coating of ice that had been holding them to the railing. The waves seemed to have abated somewhat-none were high enough to make it to the bridge anymore. The wind had also died down.

"Since 'e learned tha' I was t' be captain," Jack replied nonchalantly, taking his hands off the very wet and cold wood of the helm. Jack wasn't entirely sure if he trusted Barbossa, but he had promised Calico Jack he'd make the man his first mate. And Barbossa certainly hadn't been doing anything suspicious, only being a voice of reason when it came to matters of life aboard a pirate ship.

"I see," Bootstrap said as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering together like frightened mice. "Well, I suppose tha' makes a bi' of sense. Got t' stay on yer good side, since ye finally beat 'im to wha' 'e wanted."

"Aye, I suppose," Jack said as he began walking towards the galley, gently matching the swaying of the _Pearl_ beneath his feet. Even during storms where the _Black Pearl_ was being tossed about like some child's toy in a muddy river, Jack had a very peculiar walk. It was one of the things that made him so recognizable in a crowd, that walk. The hand motions he made didn't help either. Jack wasn't one for just blending into a mass of people. He enjoyed being noticed, and had enough wits about him to not get caught, either, when soldiers realized who he was. The two fell into silence, though Bootstrap started shivering and his teeth made a peculiar noise as they ran into each other, and soon reached the galley, with its relative warmth and bawdy pirates who had started drinking the rum Jack had ordered open.

* * *

meggumscat-I was wondering why I hadn't gotten a review...made me sad, it did. Glad you noticed before I finally got around to updating...have a few cookies.  
Kirby-Thanks for leaving your sentiments! Glad you liked it, though I thought twas rather boring...well, at least the last chapter. The beginning was very creepy...and you'd better have your story ready soon! I'm waiting...  
DragonHunter200- I'm terribly sorry for the incredibly long delay. Summer seems to have melted my brain or something...makes it hard to type when I'm not in the mood to. Plus I don't have English class anymore to force me to write...  
starwarsfreakford13-I'm glad you trust me. I don't rightly trust myself...seeing as tying in the prologue will take a long, long while...but thanks for the review, and I apologize for taking so long to update.  
Alteng- Aye, well, I didn't think that anyone else knew that legend about peacock feathers...and perhaps you are right. Though, the way I heard it, the feathers would just give you a cursed life. My whole time line is a bit wonky at the moment...I think I said something wrong in the last chapter, so the five year thing might be off...thanks for your support, mate. Really helps me, it does, to have such a good writer take the time to look at my work.  
Daisy- Yay! A hat like the tinman's! I've always wanted one of those! You can have some flip flops in exchange. Nice yellow ones, with a pretty flower print.  
sunkist3208-I wonder why as well...I wouldn't like Will based off what he did in the last chapter. I think. I don't really know, seeing as it has been so long since I last looked at the chapter... 


	4. Pearl

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this. I do not own any of the characters, really. 

Chapter 3: Pearl

"It's not funny," Jack said with the faintest hint of a frown as he looked up at Bootstrap Bill's smirking face. "Stop laughin'." He started drumming his fingers on the table of a small tavern in Hastings, Barbados. The atmosphere in the sturdy wood building wasn't one you'd generally expect in a tavern-no one was ugly drunk. Sure, most of the men inside the tavern were narrowly walking the line between nearly-sober and nearly-dead, but none of them were getting into fist fights or yelling for strumpets. There was a lot of laughter, and just a bit of smoke, as the men lazily spent their meager pittance on a few drinks and cigars.

Bootstrap took a deep breath, as if trying to prepare himself to plunge into very cold water. Once his smirk was gone, he calmly said, "An' yer sure ye aren' joshin' me, Jack? This doesn' sound like ye a' all." He glanced around the room curiously, liking the atmosphere in here somehow.

"Would I joke abou' somethin' like this, William?" Jack retorted rather snappily. Sighing, a look of forlornness in his eyes, he picked up his flagon of rum and took a large swill while his left hand continued drumming the table.

"Ye look like a los' dog," Bootstrap said seriously as he eyed Jack carefully. "I think yer tellin' the truth." He winced slightly as Jack put his mug down on the table a bit harder than occasion warranted. "Wha' does she look like?"

"She 'as blue eyes, abou' the color o' the sea af'er a storm, wiv hair the color of spun gold," Jack said with a sickening sigh. "A very curvy body, in all the right places, an' a mean temper. Abou' five inches shorter'n I am, bu' lips as red as fire." He smiled dreamily.

Bootstrap was torn between disgust and sympathy as he watched Jack talk of the woman he'd met yesterday. Bootstrap had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't just another strumpet. "Well, did ye talk t' 'er?" he asked gently after a moment of silence.

"Aye, I talked t' 'er," Jack said, a frown appearing on his face. His whole countenance seemed to darken. "'Er name is Meagan, an' she's the daughter o' the local Reverend. Hardly 'ad anythin' t' say t' me a' all." The sound of his drumming fingers grew louder and louder as he tried to vent his frustration without drawing attention to himself in the curious tavern.

"I see," Bootstrap said sorrowfully. That explained why Jack was so on edge. It had taken more than a few drinks to get him to open his mouth and talk about what was bothering him, but Bootstrap had long ago learned patience was how you learned anything about Jack Sparrow. Patience and a lot of rum. A Reverend's daughter would never find a pirate a suitable match. "Jack, boy, maybe this is fer the bes'," he said optimistically.

"'Ow can it be for the bes'?" Jack asked sadly, picking up his mug again and finishing off the last of his third glass of rum. His left hand was almost hitting the table in frustration as he continued drumming his fingers.

"Jack, I know it doesn' seem like it now, bu' lovin' one woman an' lovin' the sea jus' don' mix." Bootstrap hoped to be getting his point across admirably well. "If the woman won' e'en talk t' ye, there's really no poin' pursuin' a relationship."

"Wha'?" Jack asked incredulously, the smile on his face disappearing in an instant. He looked like Bootstrap had just insulted him. "Ye think tha' I can't get 'er t' talk t' me?"

"No, Jack, tha's not it at all," Bootstrap insisted, slightly alarmed at how quickly Jack had changed his mood.

"There's no use in lyin' t' me, William," Jack said a bit bitterly. "I can tell. Ye think tha' I don' 'ave a chance wiv 'er, don' ye?" Jack really didn't know why he was acting like a teenaged boy, jumping at anything that could be considered an insult in the slightest way and wanting to rip someone's throat out. The drunken chatter ceased, the air seemed to make one's hair stand on end (which is called a piloerection), and everybody turned to look at Bootstrap and Jack,as though they could sense something was coming.

"Tha's not wha' I think," Bootstrap said quickly, painfully aware of all the stares headed their way. "I jus' think tha' ye don' wan' to try an' devote time to one woman. The sea is a cruel mistress, as ye've said t' me before." He seemed very uncomfortable with all the stares directed at himself and Jack, and he started shifting his weight from one leg to the other, giving the appearance of squirming under pressure.

Jack sighed, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He was aware that there were people looking at him and Bootstrap curiously, but he didn't mind people looking at him; he'd lived with it most of his life. What he did mind, however, was the fact that he and Bootstrap stuck out like like a daisy in the midst of a dozen roses, and he suddenly felt the pirate brand on his arm sting. It would not be good if they were discovered to be pirates. "I suppose yer right," he conceded, stifling his anger like he would squash an annoying beetle. The tension suddenly released, the other denizens of the tavern stopped looking at the two and started drinking their alcohol, the atmosphere back to what it had been before, though a few people continued sending skewed looks towards the two.

"Glad ye see it tha' way, Jack," Bootstrap said with a relieved sigh, no longer shifting his weight uncomfortably. The fairly tall man did not like being the center of attention at all. Made him terribly aware of how much he looked at a pirate. Ever since seeing the brand on Jack's forearm, Bootstrap had become paranoid that he'd be caught and marked the same way, not realizing that the P would be burned into the skin on his forehead. Jack, through a bit of good luck, happened to have a friend in India who'd convinced the guards to put it on his arm instead.

Jack truly didn't see it that way. As a matter of fact, he planned to woo the girl just to spite Bootstrap, completely forgetting about Bootstrap's unhappy situation at home in England. It had been two years since he'd gone and retrieved his friend, anyway, so its no surprise he didn't remember Lauren, especially since he didn't want to remember her. "Aye," he said a bit coolly, putting his mug to his lips again and nearly finishing off the rum. He sighed and stood, paying for both himself and Bootstrap and swaggering his drunken way out of the bar.

Bootstrap was not daft-he realized that Jack was completely smitten with the girl. And he'd noticed how Jack hadn't finished his rum. This only happened when Jack happened to get some sort of plan running around his mind like a caged cougar.

* * *

Feeling rather silly dressed in normal clothes and with his hair pulled back like any respectable man's would be; Jack was waiting for someone to open the door to the Parish in Hastings. He'd managed to learn that Meagan's last name was Kent. It hadn't been all that hard to determine exactly where she lived, seeing as pastors of the day usually lived near the church or even in it, and Reverend Kent happened to live in the Parish. That little tidbit of information had only cost Jack a mere shilling-something he'd been more than happy to fork over to a small boy who'd cockily claimed he knew everything about Hastings. At one time in Jack's life, he'd offered to give tours of his home town in an attempt to earn enough money to get himself a sword to practice with. Of course, once his father had found out, Jack had expected a sound beating. Surprisingly, Richard had actually approved of Jack learning how to fight 'like a man', and had even enrolled him in some simple fencing classes. 

The oak door slowly opened, and Jack found himself suddenly face to face with the object of his affection. Never before in his nearly twenty-five years had Jack seen someone so perfect (at least in his mind) or so beautiful. As she blinked to adjust her eyes to the beautifully streaming sunlight that rested upon her shoulders and made her hair shine like gold in a treasure chest recently brought into the light after years of being buried below the sandy shore of some ill-forsaken island. Feeling very unsettled, yet trying to sound cool and unconcerned, Jack said a simple, "Good afternoon, milady."

Meagan glanced Jack over quickly, wondering where she'd seen him before. There was something she couldn't place about him. As a matter of fact, she'd seen him a week ago; drunk as any man could ever get and whistling and singing and making lewd comments towards her. She'd let her temper flare towards Jack, and had nearly slapped him across the face after helping him get to a tavern to sleep off the alcohol he'd consumed. Being the daughter of a minister made it so Meagan felt obligated to help the less fortunate, and Jack had been completely wasted by six in the evening that night. She was wearing a simple cream dress which seemed to make her wide blue eyes even that more noticeable. "Good afternoon," she said pleasantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but my father is currently busy with one of the parishioners. You'll have to come back later."

Jack couldn't help but notice how beautiful and mystifying Meagan's smile was. She seemed to have a slight overbite, but her teeth were surprisingly white and straight. To Jack's ears, her voice sounded almost like gentle bells swaying in the breeze, and he wouldn't have been surprised in the least bit if she had a stunning soprano. Jolting himself back to reality, Jack reached into his pocket to produce a beautiful gold necklace with a single pearl at the bottom. "Well, actually, milady, I found this on the street and I wondered if perhaps someone living in yer household dropped it." The pearl at the bottom glistened irresistibly in the sunlight, the mother-of-pearl coating seeming to change into several pale colors all at the same time.

Meagan's eyes widened in surprise as she surveyed the necklace for a moment. The faintest hint of longing was visible in her eyes as she looked back at Jack, shaking her head slowly. Her hair, which happened to be in loose ringlets, bounced enchantingly over her creamy shoulders. "Alas, sir, but I've never seen such a necklace in my life. I'm afraid it must belong to someone else."

Jack frowned slightly, still holding the necklace temptingly. Of course he knew it wasn't her's. This was some crazy scheme to get her to actually look at him. "Well, milady, I've already been to all the houses up and down this street, and nobody claims tha' it belongs t' them."

"That is a shame, sir," Meagan said, her blue eyes developing a stronger look of longing and slight hope in them. "It is a very beautiful necklace."

"Aye, it is," Jack agreed, eager to establish common grounds with the fair woman. "Unfortunately, I 'ave no use for anythin' as fine as this, so I suppose I'll jus' 'ave t' put it back on the street."

Meagan slowly shook her head, glancing up into Jack's dark brown eyes with a slight look of alarm in her blue eyes. "Kind sir, I might be able to take the necklace and have my father, the Reverend, report it to the congregation. Mayhaps someone will claim it."

"I suppose I could do tha'," Jack said with a thoughtful voice. "Bu' there are many in this world who would claim to own the necklace fer their own gains. Perhaps I should just give it to you." He smiled faintly. "Unless yer father has instilled in ye such ideas tha' it is improper t' receive a gift from a total stranger."

"Well, he does say that," Meagan said with a tone of regret in her silky voice. She smiled suddenly, extending her hand to Jack. "I'm Meagan Kent, sir."

"Jack Sparrow," Jack said as he likewise extended his hand, gently grasping Meagan's smooth hand and shaking. "Now, I suppose yer father couldn' object to ye gettin' a gift from someone ye know, eh?"

"I don't think he'd object at all," Meagan said with a rueful smile as Jack handed her the beautiful necklace. She glanced back up at Jack. "Thank you, Mister Sparrow, for giving me such a beautiful trinket. I feel in your debt. Would you object to a walk in the park in an attempt for me to repay such kindness?"

Jack looked as though he was considering the offer, though he was truly ecstatic his plan had worked. Daniel had been very negative towards his idea, saying that it was a shallow attempt that Meagan would see through. And perhaps she did, but Jack was grateful she was still considering him as a possible suitor. He grinned one of his famous grins, slowly nodding his head. "Aye, that sounds like a good sort of repayment, Miss Kent. I'd be more'n 'appy t' go on a walk in the park wiv you." Jack hadn't completely forgotten the rules of proper behavior the past eight or so years he'd been a pirate.

Meagan smiled and laughed lightly. "I'll just go and inform my father and get my wrap, Mister Sparrow, and we can be off." Though it was very warm in the Caribbean, Meagan happened to be wearing a semi-improper dress at the moment. It was showing off her shoulders. Now, this sort of dress was fine in the evening at a dance or something, but for the early afternoon, fashion-sense demanded she cover her milky shoulders up. Not to mention, she needed to keep her skin from seeing the sun.

"I can hardly wait, Miss Kent," Jack said in response, his dark eyes carefully absorbing her appearance at the moment. Visions of getting married to the beautiful girl were running amok in his head, very much out of place for his usual train of thought when he met any woman. As she turned and left, Jack felt strangely sad, as though her appearance lifted his spirits much higher than they'd ever been lifted before. Something about Meagan reminded him of his sister, and Jack could remember the one time he'd ever considered the possibility of marriage. He'd been sure that the only girl for him would have to remind him of his twin sister, Jodi. And Meagan seemed to have the same teasing spirit just waiting to surface. Not to mention her sharp anger, which Jack happened to find incredibly attractive. Many women of the day were far too meek for Jack's liking; which was mostly due to the amount of time he'd spent with very vocal strumpets. Cultured and refined women seemed to think it was better to look pretty than flaunt their intelligence or even use their voice. Silly ideas, at least to Jack, but the sad truth. Women were thought more of trophies than actual human beings in many men's minds.

Meagan appeared a few moments later with an impish smile on her face. "Well, Mister Sparrow, my father seems to like the idea of me spending time with someone, so he was more than willing to give me permission." She was now clutching a pale blue shawl, her long fingers playing with a few tassels on the end.

"Well, tha's good," Jack replied, smiling and offering his arm to Meagan. She quickly put her hand through his after putting her shawl on. "I'm not from around 'ere, Miss Kent, so I'm afraid ye'll 'ave t' lead the way," Jack admitted as he helped her to walk down the stairs towards the cobblestone streets.

"Well, Mister Sparrow, perhaps I should give you a proper tour of Hastings another day. However, today I really must insist we see the park. The flowers are in bloom, and tomorrow there is some sort of function that will make the park very loud and not somewhere where I'd like to go. Father said that they've caught a few pirates, and there will be a hanging." Meagan smiled slightly and the two began walking towards the park, Jack thinking that perhaps some of his crew had been found doing something they shouldn't be. He tried to keep an optimistic frame of mind, for there were other pirates in the Caribbean. It wasn't too hard not to worry about it, for Meagan was very adept at keeping his mind on other things.

* * *

Alteng-I happen to live in Utah, and we'd laugh at an inch of snow too. And it is a bit surprising, but this is one of the times when my whole not paying attention to what I've said before happens to shine through. Pleased to notice you noticed that it doesn't make much sense. And I had to ease up on Barbossa, as you've pointed out. He'll eventually be a fairly like-able character, having grown out of his whole teenager-ish way. And Matthew...well, we'll learn more about him later. And I shall add Ragetti and Pintel...no worries. A few things have to happen first, that's all. Though, I don't think I'll be able to represent them nearly as well as you can.  
Daisy- Perhaps you should bug me about it, then...say something like, "Have you been working on your chapter, or have you been wasting your free time doing something unconstructive like looking at the boards?" Guilt happens to work on me rather well, especially when I've got ideas to write about. This chapter is only, er, four days late. Much better than three weeks late...and a ski mask would sound like fun. Make it easier to rob a bank or something.  
starwarsfreakford13-Thank you once again for all of your support. It is difficult some times to keep writing, because I start thinking that nobody reads my work. Tis people like you who keep me writing.  
sunkist3208- When are you not hyper, Whitney? And they were on their way home from England...had to pick up Bootstrap, and Matthew still lived there, in South Hampton...and ideas are good. I'd give you a cookie if you told me about it, actually, if you can still remember it. I keep having problems with the whole time line as well...keep confusing myself.  
DragonHunter200- Well, at least this is sooner than the last time I updated...and the next update, I hope, should be next Monday. If it isn't next Monday, it will be next Saturday, seeing as I'm going to a camp. And thanks for leaving your sentiments! I'm glad you thought it was original-actually it was an attempt to make myself want to write...didn't work too well. But I'm very familiar with being cold, so it was easier to write about...and well, I'm babbling so I'll stop typing. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for all your support!


	5. Etiquette

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to use any of these characters. Nor do I plan I ever will get said permission. 

AN (7/9)- Well, I was rather quiet last chapter. No Author's Notes at all. Kinda unlike me...anyway, I hope you enjoyed the slightly mushy last chapter. This one will be even more mushy. But don't fret-the next chapter will be very interesting indeed, and there will be very little romance. And the chapter after that will be even more interesting.

Chapter 4: Etiquette

"Why, Mister Sparrow," Meagan said with a wry smile as she looked into Jack's deep brown eyes. "I never knew you had such poetry in you." Her hair seemed to glisten in the sunlight, and Jack found himself mesmerized by her light blue eyes as they walked along the park's pathways. It was a glorious day out, and Jack found himself wishing it would never end. It was alarming, yet touching, to see the same sort of thoughts shining in Meagan's eyes. She laughed lightly. "Not that I really know anything about you, Mister Sparrow. Though I've only known you for a few hours, it feels like I've known you for a lifetime."

"I'd 'ave t' agree with that," Jack said sincerely. "Never thought I'd find someone like ye in Hastings." He laughed slightly, cautiously reaching down and grasping her small smooth hand in his own tan one. Her skin seemed even more like milk next to his very tan hands from years in the sun aboard the _Black Pearl_.

Meagan looked a bit surprised to feel his hands on hers. She came from a life where you didn't hold hands unless you were close to being promised to each other. If a couple kissed, that meant that their marriage would soon be posted on the banns. Much different from what Jack was used to, but he masked his normal tendencies quite well around the vixen beauty. She looked down at their hands, then back up to Jack's face. "Why, Mister Sparrow," she said with a coquettish smile, "I had no idea you felt that way about me. I must warn you, I happen to have a beau." She looked completely serious as she started moving her hand away from his.

Jack felt his heart drop near his knees. "A beau?" he repeated incredulously, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot. "I'm sorry, Miss Kent. Din' realize..." but his hasty apology was abruptly stopped as he noticed her trying to hide a grin. Sighing in relief and feeling rather gullible, Jack laughed. "Ye 'ad me goin' there for a while, Miss Kent."  
  
Meagan laughed, firmly grasping his hand in hers. "Aye, well, I just wanted to see your reaction. Most men I pull that on get all flustered and red. You didn't." She smiled, wanting to reach out with her other hand and stroke his cheek.

"No, I didn't, did I?" Jack readily agreed. He grinned a bit mischievously down at her, for Meagan was several inches shorter than he was, even though she was wearing heeled boots. "Jack Sparrow ne'er gets flustered around a lady."

Meagan laughed again, the sound wafting through the flowers almost like magic. She suddenly grinned rather impishly, motioning for him to stop walking. Once he had, Meagan reached up and pulled on his beard slightly, bringing his face level to hers. She then gave him a cursory kiss on the lips, carefully watching his reaction.

Jack, though he was truthfully flustered, did not blush. He merely smiled and stood up straight, not wanting to press his luck with the cultured woman.

Meagan looked crestfallen, as indicated by the way her lips pulled into a pout. "You were supposed to get flustered by that, Mister Sparrow."

Jack chuckled, glancing back down at Meagan. "I already tole you, milady, I don' get flustered by women. Not to say tha' wasn't one of the sweetest experiences I've had on a first date," Jack admitted, gently sliding his arm around her small waist and continuing to walk down the boulevard.

Meagan laughed again, her pouty face completely gone. She smiled up at Jack again, suddenly blurting out, "Well, I think things would be different if my father saw you get kissed on a first date."

"E'en then I wouldn' be flustered, though I 'ave the feelin' you would be," Jack commented with a laugh. The two fell into companionable silence after that, darkness slowly enveloping the enchanting park. After a while, they reached the center of the park again, where the gallows happened to be. "So, d' ye know what pirates got caught?" Jack asked casually, glancing at the gallows with utmost loathing in his dark brown eyes.

"No," Meagan replied lightly. "Father only said that they'd be hung tomorrow. A pity, really, for there must've been something that drove the men to piracy. I think we should try to re-introduce them to society rather than hanging them the morning after they'd been caught. Pity that the Crown decided to not give the men a trial at all, really, and stopped having the men transported to England for a trial."

Jack glanced down at Meagan, carefully gauging if what she was saying was true. He smiled faintly, not detecting the least bit of falsehood in her. "Aye, it is a pity. No men should be hung, no ma'er what they did. There is a way back for nearly e'eryone. An' I don' happen t' think pirates are all tha' evil. Jus' misfortunate men who 'ad t' resort to stealing from others to survive."

Meagan nodded in agreement, sighing softly. "My father makes me attend the hangings, Mister Sparrow. I absolutely abhor it." She looked away. "Perhaps we should continue walking. I don't want to get myself angry looking at the gallows."

Jack nodded and they started walking again. His curiosity had been piqued as to the identity of whom had been caught. It was very probable it was one or more of the _Black Pearl's_ crew. Other than that somber few minutes talking about piracy, the rest of the evening seemed magical, and Jack was able to wrangle another date from Meagan the following day, after the pirate hanging.

* * *

Jack awoke the next morning with a large groan. As he tried to blink his sleepiness away, he suddenly swore as he noticed the sunlight starting to stream into the tavern he was staying at. Jumping up, he quickly changed into some fresh clothes and combed his hair back again, practically running towards the park. Officials loved to have hangings in the morning or evening; a rather odd choice, at least to Jack. 

As Jack got closer and closer to the center of the park, he kept running into more and more people. Hangings were really the epitome of entertainment during the day, for nearly the whole town showed up to see them. Not that there really was anything else for communities to attend as a whole at the time. Work was done nearly every moment of every day.

Jack smiled faintly when he spotted Meagan standing next to her rather severe looking father. The breeze gently blew Meagan's powder blue dress around, clashing oddly with her father's black robes. She seemed very sad, and Jack felt his heart drop as he surveyed her sad look. He wanted to just reach out and kiss her slightly pouty look away, but knew her father would go ballistic. Leaning against a small wall next to some rather attractive daisies, Jack silently watched the crowd part as the pirates were brought to the square. Jack felt his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for a good glimpse. Now, several ideas had gone through his mind as to how he'd be rescuing anyone in his crew whom happened to be caught, but unfortunately, none of the ideas seemed to work. Plus, he'd end up being discovered as a pirate himself, and Jack really didn't know if he could live with the look Meagan would give him.

As the mass of clothing with people inside slowly moved, Jack heard someone gasp. For a moment, he thought it might have been himself gasping, for when one receives a bit of a shock, they often don't notice things like that. However, it wasn't him who'd gasped. The grizzled men who were being forced up the few short stairs to the top of the gallows appeared to be anything but recognizable by Jack. They certainly appeared to be buccaneers, and Jack was fairly certain the man on the left had an actual pirate brand on his absolutely filthy head. That, however, wasn't what was alarming. The figure on the right was actually a woman; which Jack discerned after several moments of staring intensely through the mud and dirt on her face. She had wild black hair, but that was not what stood out the most. On her grimy overcoat, similar to the one Jack had left behind on the Black Pearl, there appeared to be hair of some sort sticking in odd renditions all over the place. Now, the odd thing about the hair was that it was much too long to be any sort of animal hair. On closer examination, the faint outline of shriveled skin could be seen on the coat in various places. Apparently the woman had the scalps of her foes on her coat.

Jack shuddered slightly, almost glad to see a woman as cruel as that locked up and on her way to dance the hempen jig. Something about the haughty way she looked out at the crowd with piercing green eyes seemed infinitely familiar, however. Almost as though he'd seen her before, though he most certainly knew he'd never seen that coat before. Shrugging that away as one would shrug away an irksome deer fly, Jack glanced towards where Meagan was standing next to her father, near the gallows. Each time he looked at her, his breath seemed to be drawn from his body by some sort of invisible cord wrapping around his chest. She was currently eyeing the woman on the gallows, where a masked man was putting a noose around her neck. Even from his position next to the bed of daisies and the small wall, Jack could tell that Meagan had a look of sympathy mixed with a twinge of disgust on her face. It was amazing to Jack how well he could tell what Meagan was thinking, though he'd really only known her for less than twenty four hours.

Jack felt no twinge of sudden recollection as the executioner read off the two miscreants' death sentences. He most certainly had heard of the Pirate Morgan, but he'd always been lead to believe that the infamous murderer was actually a male. Though, the woman with the scalps on her coat seemed as fierce as the pirate in those stories. The Pirate Morgan had been one of the most infamous in all the Caribbean, and hadn't given quarter to any other captains-any merchant vessel stopped by her had no hope of survivors. Moments later as the two suddenly found themselves standing on air, it hit Jack where he'd seen the woman before. Several years ago, in a tavern in Tortuga, a woman with the same green eyes and dark hair had been working as a strumpet, and Jack had graced her services. Now, the Pirate Morgan had been infamous even then, those seven years ago when he'd been merely eighteen; so Jack was fairly sure he'd been able to go places with that woman that very few men would ever had the privilege to. And his curiosity was piqued as to why he'd seen her as a strumpet-but there was no way he'd know now. Her neck had snapped like a petulant child's fingers to coax an unwieldy animal somewhere the moment the rope had tightened Literally shrugging slightly, Jack pushed it to the back of his mind as the crowd began disapating like the clouds after a fierce thunderstorm. Now that the scoundrels were dead, the populace would go back to their miserably monotonous ways of life.

Jack stood next to the small brick wall next to the daisy bed for a moment, idly wondering if he should pluck one of them and hand it to Meagan. It was clear she was in no hurry to leave either, for her father was hastily delivering the male pirate's Last Rites. This all seemed a bit sacrilegious to Jack, but then again, he had impersonated a cleric of the Church of England before. Couldn't be much more sacrilegious than that, unless while you were impersonating a cleric you got into somewhat of an improper position with a particularly fetching bridesmaid; which of course Jack did. And he would've gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for that bridesmaid's mother. Sighing softly, Jack's fingers began tracing odd little patterns onto one of the daisies in the beautiful flower bed. His hands seemed to have independent minds for they were always moving unless he was particularly angry. One bad sign was if Jack's hands were not moving-it meant he was mad enough to rip someone's head off. Didn't happen very often, fortunately, for Jack was very good at disguising his true emotions due to a little thing in his mind he happened to refer to as his 'sanctuary'. As a boy, he'd developed this 'sanctuary' to keep from reacting to his father's extremely harsh treatment of a severe whipping whenever he felt like giving one in an attempt to stamp out all vestiges of piracy. If only Richard knew what Jack was up to now, he'd likely go completely ballistic. Fortunately, Jack had staged his death as he left behind a rather annoyingly common name-Jacob Smith.

Meagan caught Jack's eye as her father left with the bodies. She'd just finished having a rather heated debate with her father-as evidenced by her slightly angry look-from which she'd apparently come out as victor, for she was taking mincing steps towards Jack, her blue dress swaying enticingly in the slight breeze. As she approached him with a slightly strained smile on her face, she said, "I managed to convince Father to let me walk home with you. He noticed me looking at you every once in a while. Apparently he thinks you are worthy enough to escort me home, though he thinks you look rather untrustworthy. He's a bit of a hypocrite, but he's too busy to take me home."

Jack smiled, gently taking Meagan's hand and letting go of the soft daisy underneath his index finger and thumb. "Ah, milady, tha's savvy. At least he thinks me worthy enough to escort an angel 'ome. Mos' men wouldn' dream of such a thing. Tend to think tha' I'm rather unsavory."

Meagan blushed slightly, coyly batting her eyelashes. "Aye, well, I happen to think you're a very fine man, Jack. Don't have an unsavory bone in your body." She smiled up at Jack, looking as though she were thinking about kissing the unique man who'd dispelled the monotony for her about a day ago. She didn't act upon that thought, however, and they both started walking down the boulevard towards Meagan's home.

* * *

Alteng- I know...tis insane. Jack shouldn't ever be in love with anyone. No worries...something is most definitely in store with Meagan...and, well, I realized I'd completely screwed up the timeline...so, as you see, I put in a diversion. No worries...there will be some sort of moral quandry Jack will be in that will open up the way for the introduction of dear Ragetti and Pintel...that will be next chapter, however.  
WaNdA- It is rather amusing, as a matter of fact...not that I really know...and, thanks for the encouragement and for sticking with me...I'm rather lazy in the summer, if you can't tell.  
sunkist3208- Tis a very good idea, and I shall consider it...and you are very inspirational...but there are some twists and turns coming up that you might not expect, even though you know the eventual outcome. Sorry about Whitey in advance...  
Rachel Sparrow- Right, well, I was deciding that for myself...but now the definite answer is three years. Three years until he loses the Pearl...and til the end of this story. But a lot can happen in three years.  
DragonHunter200- Bet it wasn't who you expected, eh? Silly me and forgetting the whole timeline I have to work with...anyway, you'll be seeing someone that I've actually already introduced at the gallows in the next chapter...thanks for the compliment, and I hope you liked this whole mushy chapter.  
Daisy- Yippee! I gets me a ski mask! Now I can rob that bank down the street...and thanks for the queer purple turban...and I hope you caught all those little quirks I added for your enjoyment...I'm so sad that you're at MAD camp right now...I miss you...but that's okay. I'll be fine. Keeps me from being distracted from this... 


	6. Hempen Jig

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am not rich at all, so I cannot buy permission to be using these characters in my little story here. Maybe one day I'll be able to afford them, but I highly doubt it. 

AN (7/21)- Okay, so, Erica has problems. Bet you weren't expecting that the pirates to be hung were, in fact, unknown to Jack. This is because I severely messed the whole timeline up, but I've fixed that now. And the second half of this chapter...well, I wrote that about a week ago. Kinda really confusing, isn't it?

Chapter 5: Hempen Jig

The past month had gone by with no snags or snares to distract Jack from his new-found love and muse. Meagan seemed to make Jack wax eloquent on occasion; something he was very loathe to admit to himself after her intoxicating personage left his presence. He'd finally gotten her in a position to do slightly more than merely kiss her-unheard of for the time-but Jack was afraid he'd have to make a deeper commitment to her in order to progress things any further. Jack was afraid of commitment, and he really wasn't sure if he did want to make a step towards marriage, but the desire he felt in his heart had to be satiated sometime, and he wouldn't be able to do that out of wedlock. Her ideals were cement when it came to that question, though Meagan happened to have very liberal views of the day.

Captain Jack Sparrow was currently sitting on a fallen log near the beach. It seemed that he and Meagan always either ended up at the beach or in the park. He personally preferred walking along in the sand, discussing possibilities for the future as he gazed into Meagan's intoxicating blue eyes. She seemed almost like alcohol, and Jack could not drink enough of her presence in. If Jack could see the way he was acting, he'd probably think himself a great fool, but fools always seem to rush into love, and when one is in love, one is oblivious to the world. If it weren't that way, no one would ever have the courage to give their heart to someone else, for that someone else might rip it out and stomp on it at a later date. When that sort of tragedy occurs, it is very hard for the heart to recover, in addition to all the torment the mind gives you on how utterly ridiculous you acted while in the state of 'love'. But life moves on, much like the pounding waves of the sea.

Meagan was currently dancing in front of his vision on the beach. She wasn't literally dancing, of course, but Jack seemed to never see things as they truly were around her. The two of them had several intense discussions on piracy and what the proper punishment should be for such a thing after the hanging of a woman, but they hadn't reached any sort of consensus, for Jack's ideas of leaving pirates alone didn't sit well with the daughter of the local Reverend. No real surprise there, but it had caused the slightest bit of strain for quite a while. After they'd mutually agreed to not discuss the whole pirate issue, things had gone as smooth as the sea on a calm summer day with a healthy breeze. Abandoning her 'dance' for a moment, Meagan stared curiously at Jack. It almost seemed like she was thinking about something in the future, for her delicious blue eyes retaining a faraway look. Jack's eyes seemed to mirror hers, and he felt his resolve to go a step further with her grow immensely, leaving a feeling in his chest similar to the feeling of eating too much white bread too quickly. Meagan giggled slightly, raising her voice into a haunting melody that happened to be one of the hymns in the hymnal at church. Rather unnerving, yet breath-taking all at the same moment to hear her beautiful voice hitting those high notes.

Jack considered joining in with her humming, but decided against it. If there was one thing that Jack Sparrow was afraid to do, it was to do anything dealing with music or art in public. Though his sister had told him he had a rather good voice once, Jack despised anything to do with music. It made him very uncomfortable to see people sing with gay abandon. It was one of the few things that terrified him anymore. Instead, he smiled gently; patting the log next to him as she finished her song. "Meagan, luv, I think tha' we need t' 'ave a bi' of a talk," he said with a somber voice, looking very serious indeed.

Meagan smiled, hiding her alarm at how serious Jack sounded. He was never that somber around her, for there appeared to always be a smirk of some sort hiding near the corners of his mouth. She complied with his wishes, looking up into his tanned face with a curious mixture of dread and excitement. "What is it, Jack?" she asked sweetly.

"Well, luv, I was thinking," Jack started slowly, unsure of how to broach this most precocious subject with the woman he seriously felt completed him. He did not say anything further, a faraway look in his eyes suddenly.

Meagan laughed sweetly, pulling on his beard and giving him a cursory kiss. "Thinking? Why Jack! I do believe we've finally made some progress." She grinned mischievously, running her hand across his cheek.

Jack chuckled, his dark brown eyes regaining their usual look whenever he stared at Meagan's honey colored hair or sea blue eyes. "Aye, we 'ave made some progress." Inwardly swallowing locusts swarming across his stomach, he bent down and kissed Meagan with a fervor and a passion he'd been restraining so far, his hands exploring places that Meagan hadn't let him explore yet. When she did not recoil and slap him, Jack knew she was finally ready for that next step he'd been yearning to take with her since first seeing her.

* * *

"Jack," Meagan said miserably, the rain falling off her eyelashes and pooling momentarily on her cheeks, only to fall to the ground like a miniature waterfall seconds later. She was staring up at Jack, a look of pity and sympathy in her blue eyes. "Don't watch it, Jack," she added quietly. 

Jack could barely even hear Meagan as he watched with horror as the two men being led to the gallows were fitted for a noose. His heart was beating at an uncomfortable pace, almost like a rabbit's would while being chased by a particularly ravenous wolf. Each beat of his racing heart seemed to say, "Do something!", but Jack's legs felt plastered in place. He couldn't move if he wanted to. Swallowing hard, he tried to ignore what was playing across his eyes. In the distance, he could hear a muffled, "Warren Nelson and Mark Sell, you have been found guilty of committing piracy. Your sentence is to be hung from the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your souls," from none other than the Reverend Kent. He'd been doing this for the past few weeks, for the usual man had gotten ill with tuberculosis. Rather than hiring another military man, they decided to use the most vehement opponent to pirates-Meagan's father.

Jack winced as though stricken as he noticed Mark was looking at him directly in the eyes. Jack could tell the man's grayish eyes were full of fear, shame, and indignation. Not that Jack could blame him. Jack hadn't exactly been the best captain the past month because of his infatuation with Meagan, and it was fairly surprising that only Warren (who happened to be called Whitey) and Mark were the only ones to be captured in the act. Jack watched as Mark bumped Whitey in the shoulder, and soon both Mark's eyes and Whitey's hazel eyes were staring sadly at him. Jack couldn't maintain eye contact, looking down as the executioner prepared to pull the lever that would end the two miscreants' lives. This was absolutely horrible for Jack, especially since he had no idea how to prevent their untimely deaths.

Meagan seemed to sense that something was wrong with Jack, for she wasn't looking at the ground as she normally did during such horrible executions. The rain was slowly pooling underneath the grass they happened to be standing on, and she gently pulled his head down to her level, giving him a passionate kiss in an attempt to drive that look of hopelessness out of his eyes.

Jack could hardly even feel that kiss because of his sand-blasted conscious. Though he could not see what was going on because of Meagan's face, he knew the moment the lever was pulled and Mark was dancing the hempen jig because of a particularly close bolt of lightning and loud rumble of thunder. He seemed to have a look of complete surrender on his face, and after Meagan stopped kissing him, he couldn't remember even seeing Whitey hang.

* * *

A few short hours later, Jack was sitting in the warm glow of a fire in a small tavern in Hastings, Barbados. He was staring at his hands, idly rubbing his index finger over his palm. To him, it seemed as if there were blood staining the creases that many thought to be an indication of how long you'd live or if you'd be wealthy or not. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the ashen faces of Whitey and Mark in that rainstorm. Surprisingly, he couldn't remember any sort of color, though there were vivid colors of flowers in the park during the hanging. 

Of course there wasn't any literal blood on his hands, for Jack was merely reacting as any guilty man does. There truly wasn't anything he could've done to prevent Mark and Whitey's death, but that did not change how guilty Jack felt. He seemed to think there was something he could've done which would've resulted in a happy ending. Mark and Whitey had been some of his most loyal crew members and their immense carpentry skills would be sorely missed.

"An' I jus' stared, William, I jus' stared as they faced death. I din' 'ave any bloody ideas on how t' save them, an' I din' do anything," Jack practically moaned, still staring at his hands. He'd been at this state since Bootstrap had escorted him back to the tavern.

Bootstrap looked oddly sympathetic, something formulating in his mind. The gangly pirate realized that Jack had been too concerned with Meagan the past few weeks, and something needed to remedy the situation. There was also the fact that if the crew knew that Jack had witnessed Mark and Whitey's executions, they could possibly mutiny. He stood up rather abruptly after a moment and disappeared, reappearing with several flagons of rum in his hands a few moments later. "Jack, me boy, there was nothin' ye could've possibly done t' save them. 'Ave a drink an' forget abou' them." He smiled sympathetically and put a glass of rum into Jack's hands, resuming his sitting position on a fairly posh armchair.

Jack looked at the mug for a while after Bootstrap thrust it into his hands, his mind going around in circles. The roughly blown glass seemed like ice in his hands, curiously enough. The only place Jack had ever had ice was in England. Much too warm in the Caribbean for something as frivolous as ice in one's drink. He most definitely wasn't used to having a glass mug to drink from, but all the seedier taverns had been full, so he and Bootstrap had been forced to spend extra money on a nice room and get more expensive alcohol that was served in glass. He sighed, sloshing the contents inside the mug slightly before deciding to take a swill.

Moments later, a knock at the door made Jack nearly choke on his rum as Bootstrap silently got up and answered it. Standing in the doorway was none other than blue eyed Hector Barbossa, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry t' disturb ye, Cap'n, bu' I jus' heard abou' Whitey an' Mark an' I think we should get replacements fer them as soon as possible. Rumor 'as it tha' there's a Spanish ship, one o' the las', on its way t' Spain wiv lots of gold." Barbossa appeared very upset at mention of Whitey and Mark, but by the end of his statement, there happened to be a greedy grin on his face.

Jack nodded absent-mindedly, not at all concerned about any sort of gold or such. "I'll leave tha' in yer charge. Find two men t' replace Whitey an' Mark, an' I'll 'ave a look a' them." He put the glass mug to his lips and took another large swill, almost instantly forgetting what the conversation was about anyway.

Barbossa nodded, stepping momentarily out of the room. He reappeared so quickly that Jack really couldn't tell he'd left. "I've already foun' some good men t' replace them, Cap'n." He smiled ever so slightly, stepping into the room. Behind him trailed a rather tall man with what appeared to be blonde hair and a rather vacant expression on his face. And further behind the tall man was a rather squat man that had rather stringy hair and a lecherous expression on his face. There was nothing peculiar really about either-they already looked the part of pirates and certainly smelled like pirates. Barbossa pointed over at the tall one. "Tha's Anthony Ragetti. Tole me 'e served under ole Edward Collier."

Jack nodded to the gangly man, watching him somewhat warily as Ragetti gave a rather peculiar salute. To his knowledge, Collier had been a pirate before the turn of the century, and, if Ragetti did in fact serve under Collier, he must be nearly fifty or sixty. He certainly didn't look to be that old, so Jack gave a rather sarcastic grin. He was a pushover for liars eager to join his crew. He didn't say anything, though, for he really wasn't in the mood for frivolous talking.

Barbossa shrugged slightly, indicating the rotund man with a balding head. "This is Henry Pintel. Claims t' be from Henry Morgan's crew." Pintel nodded slightly, looking rather nervous in front of Jack. He smiled faintly, revealing very bad teeth.

Jack nodded towards the short man, smiling faintly as he thought that Pintel reminded him of a snowman he'd seen Matthew drawing once. Matthew was a fine addition to his crew, though he seemed obsessed with his children-twins named Hannah and Isabelle. It was obvious the small man was lying as well, for Henry Morgan had been a scourge before the turn of the century. Sighing slightly, he said, "Well, they certainly look enough like scallywags t' join me crew. We should be leavin' sometime nex' week." With a wave of his hand, Barbossa escorted the rather bedazzled men away from his presence. When they'd left, he picked up his mug again and finished off the rum, only faintly surprised to see Bootstrap enter the room with more. He hadn't even noticed his friend's departure. Shrugging a slightly uneasy feeling he'd developed aside, Jack started drinking himself to oblivion in an attempt to erase the looks Mark and Whitey had given him.

* * *

**Alteng**-Aye, most sentences were for death by strangulation, but the neck of those condemned did occasionally break in an instant...got that from the Mummy...and, yes, it was an interesting description. Sometimes my mind likes to be a bit morbid. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the introduction of dear old Ragetti an' Pintel, though I don't do them nearly as much justice as you do them.  
**Jack**- Merci! Though, you probably won't see this response forever, I'm glad you like it. And impressed you've kept reading it...  
**Mab, Queen of Faerie**- I'm certainly glad you're enjoying this. Though, you won't see this response in ages, I'm glad you are trucking through my first one...gives a lot of important backstory. And I truly am only seventeen.  
**sunkist3208**- You can do anything to Eric that you want to do...I'll be savvy with that. And, yes, that was a very long review. Almost sounds like you've gotten into the sugar or something. And you can have a trip to Hastings with Jack, I suppose...though, you get to see him nearly every day when we RP or what have you. Luckier than most. And the timeline...I was going to have the events in this chapter in the last chapter, but I forgot that Jack had only known Meagan for a day...and if I get any ideas, I'll tell you. To tell the truth, my ideas are starting to get a bit stale..  
**Rachel Sparrow**- Aye, well, it won't work out, unfortunately. I have many nefarious plans for poor Meagan. Never fear, Jack will be savvy...and thanks for the review! I really appreciate it much more than I think anyone realizes.  
**DragonHunter200**- Just had to keep you on your toes. And I'm glad you found Morgan to be so spooky...she's one lady no one should ever meet. And, to tell the truth, I actually do like the mushy stuff...romantic at heart...thanks for being such a faithful reviewer!


	7. Betrayal

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this.

AN (7/28): Sorry for the rather long delay since my very fast update before. I'm currently sitting in a hot pink camping chair in a small campground near Park City called Rockport. I'm rather hungry, but they are just starting dinner and it is nearly 5:30. Might take a while...so I'll type on my PDA and ignore the faint smell of burnt marshmallow...

AN (7/29)- Right-this chapter is a bit on the unusual side. I've only ever not focused on Jack once before-and that was for a very brief moment. However, I feel this chapter needs to be unique; besides, it wouldn't be long enough if I didn't. If you dislike it, feel free to say so (along with any other complaints) in your review (which I hope you leave-I get discouraged easily).

Chapter 6: Betrayal

"Ye really think tha' will 'elp me from thinkin' abou' those ruddy eyes?" Jack managed to slur out. Barbossa and the newest additions to the _Black Pearl_'s crew had left nearly five hours before, and Jack had not refused any of the fifteen refills that Bootstrap had offered him. Most people would've succumbed to alcohol poisoning by now, but Captain Jack Sparrow was unique. He usually had an average of six bottles of rum at any one sitting. As a young scallywag, he'd slowly built up his tolerance to the effects of the beverage. But sixteen mugs of fine rum really made him drunk.

"Of course it will 'elp, boy," Bootstrap replied with a rather uncharacteristic lewd grin. "Tis 'ow mos' men solve problems. An' ye've ne'er said no before." He grasped the mug in his hand so tight his knuckles seemed white. Chocolate-brown eyes glanced analytically at Jack, trying to decide if he wanted to give Jack another refill.

Jack mused over this for a moment. It was true, of course, that he usually did turn to pleasurable company when he couldn't work things out. It was a magnificent stress reliever. However, Jack couldn't help but think of Meagan. If she ever found out that he'd done that while courting her-well, it wouldn't be good. And it would most likely result in him spilling the milk about him being a pirate. That whole situation would probably result in Jack dancing the hempen jig-a most undesirable situation. This thought process took Jack nearly five minutes, and by the time he'd reached that conclusion, he'd forgotten what he was thinking about.

"Come on, Jack. There is no possible way tha' she'd find out." Bootstrap shifted forward in his chair, setting his mug on a small side table and peering at Jack eagerly.

Jack still made no reply, though it was starting to make much more sense. He stared at Bootstrap blankly, his normally expressive dark brown eyes having just about as much expression as a dead fish's eyes. Suddenly, he blurted out, "Bu' I'm goin' t' ask Meagan t' marry me. If she learned I did this," he trailed off, his left hand making a motion similar to that of a slashing knife.

Bootstrap sighed; alarmed that Jack was being so serious. "She won' find out," he reiterated. Displaying an unusual sudden burst of impatience, he stood and walked out of the door.

It slowly dawned on Jack that his friend had left without saying goodbye. When he'd reached that conclusion, he was starting to become quite perturbed. He was just about to stand up and find Bootstrap to demand a farewell when the door opened again. What Jack saw made him feebly sit down again.

A woman stood in the doorframe of the average-sized room. She had seductive green eyes about the color of a polished emerald. Her lips were painted a dark red, looking moist and very kissable. Her eyes were perfectly accented with expertly applied kohl. She smiled as Jack's eyes scanned down to her bosom, perfectly visible in her low-cut emerald dress. "'Ello, Captain Sparrow. Me name's Joy, an' I 'ear tha' ye need a bi' of company t'night."

Jack didn't say anything-in his inebriated state, he couldn't see the slight harelip Joy had or the scars from smallpox she'd tried to hide by slathering some sort of wax-based make-up on her face. He slowly started grinning, beckoning her forward with his left index finger. She hastily complied; someone had paid her quite well in advance.

* * *

A knock on the door made Meagan Kent, the bonny lass of Captain Jack Sparrow, nearly fall off the fine upholstered couch she was sitting on. A quick glance at the slightly dilapidated grandfather clock revealed the time-it was nearly nine. Visitors did not call at such a late hour unless it was truly an emergency.

Sighing softly with a chagrinned look on her face, Meagan put down the romantic novel she had been reading. While her left hand smoothed down her turquoise skirts, her right hand brushed away a few tears in her sea blue eyes. Meagan was grateful Jack couldn't see her now, though he'd probably think it was funny. She'd been rather emotional the past few weeks; and it really was a miracle she hadn't cried in front of Jack yet.

Mincing her steps slightly, Meagan approached the simple oak door. Though she hadn't exactly experienced poverty, being the daughter if the minister meant that almost everything in their home was simple and had to last for a long time. She slowly opened the door, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't notice the slight droplets on her cheeks. Her blue eyes grew puzzled as she saw who was standing there.

The man in the doorframe looked down. "Sorry t' bother ye so late, Miss Kent, bu' Jack is sick an' he wanted me t' fetch you." The man looked up, a look of worry in his brown eyes.

Meagan gasped slightly, her heart suddenly racing. Her left hand was busy twisting at a green ring with a silver band on her thumb-a small memento from Jack. He'd given it to her after they'd shared their first night together. Of course, it was much too large for her ring finger (for she seriously suspected he'd never bought a woman jewelry before) so she wore it on her thumb and made sure she didn't shake her hand too vigorously. Not only was she worried about Jack, but she was worried that her father would find out about her relationship.

Meagan smiled slightly, knowing it was pointless to get mad at the messenger. He seemed nice enough, though he was a bit taller than Jack. "Well, sir, could you please escort me to him?"

The man nodded and tilted his head towards the darkening outdoors. "It would be me pleasure, Miss."

Meagan nodded and stepped outside, not even bothering to ask the man his name.

After walking for nearly thirteen minutes, Meagan finally decided to talk to the man in an attempt to stave off the gnawing worry enfolding her like a swarm of African bees. She'd sensed something was horribly wrong with Jack earlier today, when he'd been very near to tears at the park during the hanging of those pirates. It almost seemed like he'd known them or something, though Jack had refused to answer any questions about it. Feeling a bit odd (for she still did not know Jack's profession), she softly asked, "How do you know Jack?"

The man glanced down at Meagan, a curious expression on his face as though he were trying to make his mind up about something. Finally he answered a moment later, "He's me boss, Miss Kent," in a slightly informative tone of voice.

Meagan didn't reply to that, though she was now giving the man a more critical glance. He was dressed rather oddly for this section of town, and Meagan was wondering if he'd ever washed what appeared to be a tan shirt. It wouldn't have surprised her if the man told her it had once been white. Jack had a similar shirt that always looked clean, but Meagan couldn't help but wonder exactly what Jack did if he had men like the one escorting her as his employees. Sighing softly and forcing out a carefree laugh, she asked, "What exactly do you do? Jack never seems to have the time to answer that."

The man looked east for a moment. Meagan thought this very curious-there wasn't anything on the east side of the town other then the ocean. He glanced back down at her, seemingly with a stronger resolve. "Why, Miss Kent, we be sailors. Jack be the captain of our vessel."

Meagan acknowledged she'd heard by nodding. She smiled slightly-this really explained all the allusions he made about the sea.

The two resumed their silence. Meagan would glance at the man curiously every once in a while. He seemed to be getting tenser and tenser as the moments melted away to oblivion and they neared their destination. She also thought it quite unusual that he hadn't told her his name.

When they reached the tavern, the rather tall man showed Meagan up a flight of slightly worn wooden stairs, stopping at a door. "Jack is in there, Miss Kent. Wants t' see ye alone." He smiled slightly and bowed, quickly leaving the small corridor with numerous doors.

Meagan stared at the door for a second. Perhaps Jack wasn't really sick-perhaps he was going to do something very romantic for her. The thought filled her with a sense of euphoria. Meagan could tell that Jack had something very serious on his mind that he wanted to tell her. She suspected the handsome man would ask for her hand in marriage. This was a very pleasant thought, for Meagan loved Jack much more deeply than even she realized. Yet, as she was reaching for the handle on the door, Meagan couldn't help but feel rather uncertain. It seemed something was warning her not to look inside.

Shrugging the uneasy feeling away, Meagan put her hand on the iron handle. If Jack was truly ill, he would need her help. The next few seconds seemed to take an eternity, in retrospect, as she slowly turned the handle and peered inside. What she saw made her gasp out as her heart literally felt it had broken. She muttered four words, "Jack! How could you?" before her blue eyes filled with tears and she slammed the door shut. Clutching at her chest, she ran blindly into the darkness outside the tavern.

* * *

Surprisingly, Jack heard what Meagan said. To him, it sounded like Meagan had screamed. He glanced down at Joy, feeling like he was worth less than the plaque on a pirate's teeth as the door noisily clicked shut. It almost sounded like chains falling to the floor in a prison. He dropped Joy onto the bed, hastily dressing. "Get out," he said in a dangerously low voice to the whore.

Joy's plastered smile faltered. "Alrigh'," she said slowly, grabbing her emerald dress and cotton shift. She quickly stepped into her shift, an indifferent look on her face.

Once Jack finished buttoning his shirt back up, he left the room. He ran down the stairs, stepping into the dark night. Once his eyes had adjusted to the moonless skies, he ran, his dark brown eyes trying to find any sign of Meagan. The search seemed futile, especially because he knew there was no way she would ever forgive him.

Jack finally found Meagan about half an hour later. He'd heard her faint sobs as he entered the park. Slowly sauntering to the park bench she was sitting on, he softly said, "Meagan."

Meagan looked up, her sapphire blue eyes full of sorrow and hatred. She sobbed again, struggling to regain control of her emotions enough to say something. She swallowed hard. "Go away, Jack," she finally managed to say.

Jack shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry," he said lamely, putting his hand on the rough bark of a tree. "I'm so sorry," he reiterated.

Meagan shook her head, her eyes hardening. "I don't care," she said coldly. "I don't even know you, Jack! How could you do something like that with another woman? I thought," a heavy sob tore through her throat, making it so Jack did not know what she thought.

"Meagan-she din' mean anythin' t' me," Jack insisted, clutching the branch on the tree as if it were a life-preserver and he were a drowning man. He didn't know how to handle this situation, and he was having a hard time processing information, due to his very drunk state.

"If she didn't mean anything," Meagan said with her blue eyes full of hatred, "Why did you do that with her? Am I not good enough for a ruddy captain? Do I displease your immense manliness?" She glared contemptibly at Jack for a few moments before looking down at her hands.

It took Jack a while to figure out that Meagan had said something she shouldn't have known. Once that thought registered like molasses, Jack quickly asked, "Who tole you tha' I'm a captain?" He was worried that she knew he was a pirate as well, and his thoughts turned to Barbossa. But Barbossa didn't know he had been courting Meagan.

"He didn't tell me his name," Meagan defensively replied. Her blue eyes filled with more venom. "Jack, you egotistical eunuch! He told me you'd sent for me! Do you get some sort of sadistic pleasure at making the woman who fell in love with you witness that degrading display?"

"Meagan," Jack said quickly, "I din' mean for you t' see tha'. I din' e'en mean t' do tha', bu' William kept givin' me rum. I couldn' resist the alluring call o' alcohol."

Meagan shook her head, her honey blonde hair looking almost like the skin of a ghost in the very pale light. "I don't even know you, Jack Sparrow. You've been lying to me ever since I first saw you." Her sobs had been replaced by unadulterated hatred, and she slowly stood up.

"Meagan, wait! I love you, an' I'm sorry tha' I hurt yer feelin's. I promise tha' I'll never do it again." Jack put his hand out, intending to catch Meagan's arm.

"Don't you dare touch me!" Meagan protested, bringing her open palm up to Jack's face before he could even blink. A resounding smack was clearly heard as his head twisted sideways. "You know nothing of love!"

Jack stood there, wincing as he waited for the large red spot on his cheek to stop hurting. Finally able to control the pain, he looked at Meagan critically. "Meagan, please! If you ever did once love me, try to find it in yer 'eart t' forgive me."

There was no hint of softening in Meagan's furious face. "The Jack Sparrow I fell in love with does not exist. It wouldn't surprise me to learn you were a bloody pirate." She sniffed angrily.

Jack shook his head sadly. "I wasn' lyin', Meagan. I jus' din' tell you the whole truth." His dark brown eyes resembled the eyes of a cow on its way to the slaughterhouse.

Meagan scoffed angrily. "Well, if you can't tell me the 'whole truth' about yourself, how could I ever trust you? I can't love a man who isn't completely honest." She slapped his other cheek with much more force, surprising both herself and Jack.

Jack winced again, slowly turning his head back to look at Meagan. "Please forgive me," he said slowly. "I love you." His voice carried the utmost amount of sincerity his inebriated mind would allow him to muster.

Meagan slowly shook her head, her eyes filling with tears again. "We're finished, Jack." He hands fumbled with something for a moment, and she pressed a warm piece of metal into his hand. "I'm leaving." With that, she turned and started walking away, her skirts seemingly floating above the ground and reacting to each step she quickly made.

"Meagan!" Jack cried after her. She did not even turn to look back, and Jack realized she truly was gone for good. He stared numbly towards where she had disappeared for nearly five minutes, finally losing control and falling to the ground, sobbing.

* * *

**meggumscat**- Merci! And they are a bit evil. Right now they're really just bumbling fools. Thanks for the review, and have a mushy cookie.

**Daisy**- Let's just say I get distracted easily. If you'd bug me more, I'd write more often! Being unpredictable is always fun! You should try it to a higher extreme!

**Alteng**- Aye, I know that Henry and Tony aren't their real names, though they could be. Just an allusion to your smashing story! And I think it was Pintel, seeing as Ragetti is rather slow. And, no, Ragetti hasn't lost his eye yet. It will certainly be an interesting chapter when he does.

**Jack**- Well, I happen to have blue eyes. And it is a lot easier to describe things you actually have.

**DragonHunter200**- It is always fun to make the audience believe one thing and then another, only to do what they were expecting anyway. Sorry for the long delay. I'll try to update faster. The next chapter will be...interesting.

**Rachel Sparrow**- Well, I don't know if I'll address that in this book. I might...I'll give that some consideration. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**sunkist3208**- You definitely did say they were twins. I remember. And I am sorry I killed your counterparts, but I had to introduce Ragetti and Pintel somehow. I can get you another counterpart...but they'll probably be evil. And I always do need more inspiration. I'm not entirely sure what the next chapter after this one will include. Thanks for all of your support! And you should write more! At least I still update, even though it is so sporadic. This last review was probably your longest yet. I like long reviews. Heck, I just like reviews.


	8. Advice

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to use these characters, even though they are so much fun to use... 

AN (8/16)-I have one more week of summer vacation left. And I don't know if I'll be able to update as frequently this school year-I've got AP English; which should be much more difficult than the English class I had last year in which I could write almost the entire hour and half. I got halfway through this chapter and realized I didn't like it...so, I'm starting fresh today.

Chapter 7:Advice

Water was pouring down from the skies, pelting man with such ferocity it made the skin sting in thousands of places. Of course, Captain Jack Sparrow could not feel the small pebbles of water as they made his kohl run down his face. He did not notice the bright flashes of lightning, nor quake as the loud thunder reverberated through the wood on the Black Pearl. Strong winds of nearly five knots whipped his hair into his face; the trinkets tied to his braids leaving small, yet deep, scratches across his cheek. And Jack couldn't feel a thing. There was no emotion on his face; it almost seemed like he was a statue made of fine marble, chiseled to have a blank face by some odd artist with the inability to express any emotion on his creations.

Numerous attempts had been made to try and get Jack out of this curious state. Each one had fizzled out like Chinese firecrackers that had been shoddily constructed. Jack would either just ignore the member of his crew trying to get the silent statue to speak or he would lash out at them. Daniel had tried three times. By the third attempt, Jack had nearly ordered the redhead to be whipped for insubordination. Which was odd; usually Jack and Daniel got along quite famously. The only members of the crew who hadn't at least tried once in the past week were Bootstrap, Matthew, and Barbossa. However, it really didn't seem that odd that they hadn't tried. After Jack nearly ordered Daniel's whipping, the rest of the crew decided they didn't want to try anymore. And who could really blame them? Jack would probably talk when he was ready to talk. Either that, or go insane. Only a select few actually knew why he was acting so out of character; the rest were just getting sick of a captain who didn't say anything.

The storm worsened as Jack stood next to the helm, mindlessly staring out at the horizon. He could see objects and people, but his mind didn't process what they were. There was an odd glossiness to his dark brown eyes, making them almost look like minute mirrors. It seemed like Jack wasn't even in his body. Or, if he was, he was trapped inside his own mind, only occasionally coming out to yell at people who wanted to help him through this ordeal. He hadn't even noticed the flow of his crew trying to help him had abruptly stopped when he'd struck Daniel across the face.

As the winds picked up, nearly reaching a fervor, Jack suddenly felt his shoulder get cooler as his wet clothes pressed down to his skin and a curious weight was there. His eyes lost a great deal of their curious sheen as he turned slightly to try and see who was trying to annoy him this time. As the rain dripped off his beard's two braids, Jack's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't Daniel again. It was Hector Barbossa, his first mate. If it had been anyone else, Jack probably would have yelled at them, maybe even threatening to hit; but something about Barbossa seemed to placate that angry streak he'd been feeling of late. Which was odd; Barbossa usually made Jack rather uncomfortable. He turned all the way around, letting go of the helm and just noticing that the sails were lashed to keep them from tearing in the great winds. The rudder really wouldn't have made much of a difference as to the direction of the Pearl in the wind-swept ocean.

Barbossa was watching him analytically with his blue eyes, seemingly trying to figure out what was bothering his captain. He had no idea that Jack's heart felt as though it had been sliced in two with a cutlass. "Cap'n," he said finally, nearly yelling to be heard over the loud wailing winds and crashing of the sea against the hull of the Pearl. "There's no point in stayin' out during a storm like this one."

Jack blinked twice, more of the odd haze in his eyes disappearing. He glanced around, suddenly aware of how much the rain hurt as it pelted his face and how cold it was when the wind whipped his drenched clothes around. He sighed softly, his statuesque demeanor slowly melting. "I suppose ye be right," he said finally, nearly five minutes later. It was probably the fact that Barbossa had refused to move that had softened him the most.

"Why don' we 'ave a drink t'gether, then?" Barbossa asked a few moments later, clearly surprised that Jack had responded at all. "Ye'll catch yer death out 'ere in the storm." Odd how this statement didn't seem like motherly advice when issued from Barbossa's often chapped lips.

Jack slowly nodded, putting one foot slowly in front of the other and walking towards the stairs that led to the galley. It was odd to see him walk during a storm like this. While everyone else aboard any ship walked like a drunken man, he appeared to be walking in a straight line. Probably the only time his gait resembled that of a normal person.

Barbossa followed the dripping Jack down the polished stairs (which were only polished because they were constantly in use) and into the galley. As Jack numbly sat down on a rough wooden chair, he pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked a small chest. Spirits were off limit to the crew except during times of celebration. If the crew had access to the whiskey and rum inside the cabinet, the alcohol would be gone in a day and the crew would laze about for about three to compensate for it. Not a very efficient way to run a ship. Instead, the crew drank grog-a mixture of water and rum. It was more water than rum; for if the crew could actually get drunk off of grog, it would lead to lowered productivity levels. Barbossa grabbed a bottle of rum and a bottle of whiskey, hastily locking the cabinet again as Snide Shaine, Stout Sam, and Kaman gave the cabinet a longing look. He hastily shooed the crew members inside the galley out, commanding them to clean their cabins before he inspected them. As they scurried out, Barbossa sat down across from Jack and put the bottle of rum in front of his right hand. Something seemed to strike him as odd, and he asked, "Where'd ye get the ring?"

Jack looked as though he'd been stricken as he glanced down at the ring on the index finger of his right hand. There was, in fact, a new addition to his overall look. The silver and green ring he'd given Meagan now resided on his finger. She'd given the square ring back to Jack that horrible night in Hastings, and Jack felt like he was reliving the whole ordeal again. His left hand went to his cheek, rubbing it softly. "Got it in Hastings," he answered finally, avoiding the probing stare of Barbossa like the Black Death. Of course, the plague hadn't really been as devastating as it had been in the Middle Ages, but it was still a deadly killer. Any disease could potentially wipe out Jack's entire crew. Ships were havens for diseases, they were the perfect place for the germs to multiply and infect people due to the close quarters and oft-times inadequate food.

Barbossa didn't do anything as he absorbed that information. It was clear that something that happened in Hastings was bothering Jack, and that it had something to do with the ring. It was only obvious that some woman had spurned him rather badly-there was no other reason that seemed to fit the symptoms he was having. "I take i' tha' the lady ye gave tha' to gave it back, eh?" he finally asked a few minutes later after having a large drink of his whiskey.

Jack nodded, suddenly looking rather angrily at Barbossa. "How did ye know that?" He knew that somebody had to have lead Meagan to his room-he'd never told her he was staying at that tavern. And he'd narrowed it down to the only people who had known where he was-Barbossa, Bootstrap, Matthew, Ragetti, and Pintel. But Ragetti and Pintel didn't really seem to have the mental capacity necessary to do something so ruthless. They were bumbling fools, and from what Jack had cared to notice about them, they really knew nothing about sailing. Always getting into potentially dangerous situations. Jack couldn't think Bootstrap would do something like that to him-Bootstrap was his closest friend. Matthew was still a mystery to Jack, so it could've been him. But he suspected Barbossa the most.

"Jack, ye only made it obvious," Barbossa hastily replied. "There's only really three times in a man's life tha' 'e gets so despondent-when 'e firs' sees someone die, when 'e firs' kills someone, an' when 'e firs' loses the love o' his life." Barbossa smiled faintly. "Don' get mad a' me, Jack. I know wha' yer goin' through. Bu' there isn' any woman on this earth worth any more heart ache. Tis been a week."

Jack frowned, really wanting to punch Barbossa at the suggestion that he should forget about Meagan. Just thinking her name again made his heart want to burst. "I can be morose as long as I wan' to," he said coldly. "Don' tell me wha' t' do! Ye really don' know wha' I'm goin' through."

Barbossa frowned, taking a deep drink from his bottle of whiskey. "Jack, don' be such a self-centered man. Jus' because ye think tha' I don' know women exist doesn' mean tha' I 'aven' been in love." Barbossa spoke the word love with just the faintest hint of derision, looking rather disgusted at whomever had decided that love existed.

Jack calmed down slightly, giving Barbossa an incredulous look. Though he hadn't realized it, Jack really did think that Barbossa didn't realize women existed. He kept to himself when they went to port. "When were ye in love?" he asked shortly, figuring that Barbossa would never tell him.

Barbossa sighed softly, his blue eyes, with just a hint of yellow around the irises, full of a faraway look. "It was years ago, Jack," Barbossa finally said. Frowning, he looked Jack directly in the eyes. "What I say does no' leave the galley, is that clear?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Crystal clear. I won' tell a soul wha' ye'll tell me, on pain o' death." He smiled slightly to show he was serious. Actually, the whole idea of Barbossa telling him about his past seemed rather enjoyable. Yet at the same time, Jack didn't want to know. He liked trying to solve mysteries, and often made up stories about people to explain the way they acted.

Barbossa nodded. "Good. I don' wan' any of the crew t' know that I was once very much like ye are." He sighed softly, drumming his fingers on the table. Jack couldn't help but notice how dirty the man's fingernails were as he cocked his head to listen. Barbossa frowned slightly, continuing. "Well, Jack, I fell in love wiv a woman when I was abou' twenty three. She 'ad joined the same ship I was on at the time, though she was disguised as a man. 'Er disguise din' fool me a' all, but I din' mention the fact she was a woman to anyone else because I was so smitten wiv 'er. We courted for a while, in secret. Bu' then she revealed to the captain tha' she was a woman." Barbossa took a long drink from his whiskey, nearly finishing it off.

"Wha' 'appened?" Jack asked as Barbossa swallowed. He certainly hadn't expected something like this from the older man with stringy brown hair.

"Well, 'e fell in love wiv 'er, she fell in love with him, and I was completely forgotten about. The captain lef' the ship, bought a new one, an' invited me an' the woman t' join his crew. We both did, though the woman got a higher position than me." Barbossa frowned, wondering why he'd told Jack so much as it was.

Jack gave Barbossa a look of sympathy. "Well, a' leas' someone din' betray ye," he said softly. His mind was busy storing the information that Barbossa had given him. For a brief moment, Jack had the suspicion that Barbossa had loved his mother...but he'd immediately thrown that thought out of his mind. His mother wouldn't have ever given someone like Hector Barbossa serious thought. She probably came into the story a few years later-Calico Jack had always liked having more than one woman aboard.

"Someone betrayed ye?" Barbossa asked, throwing aside his unusual aura of recounting his past. "Wha' 'appened?" He looked at Jack sympathetically, finishing off the last of his bottle of whiskey.

Jack sighed and grabbed the bottle of rum in front of where his left hand was now residing. He opened it and quickly downed half of it before replying. "Well, I go' meself really drunk one night. Invited a strumpet an' was 'avin' a good time. Bu' someone wen' an' tole Meagan abou' the whole thing, and she came t' me room an' saw me at a rather inopportune momen'."

"Ah," Barbossa commented. No wonder Jack had been so angry the past week. It was obvious that one of the crew had to have done it-no one else would've known where he was staying. "I wasn' e'en aware tha' ye were seeing anyone," Barbossa candidly said a few moments later to dispel any thoughts that he'd done it from Jack's mind.

"I know," Jack said heavily. He frowned, downing half of what was left in the bottle. "I really think tha' it was William. Bu' I don' wan' t' think tha'. 'E's me bes' friend, an' I jus' can't believe 'e'd do somethin' so underhanded."

Barbossa nodded. "Aye, I know. But it probably was 'im. I don' think tha' anyone else realized ye were seeing someone seriously." He sighed softly, though there seemed to be a bit of a spark of what could inaccurately be described as gladness in his eyes.

Jack frowned, glancing at Barbossa with a saddened look. "Ye were supposed t' tell me it wasn' 'im. Now I'll 'ave t' confront 'im, an' tha' won' turn out well a' all." He angrily set the bottle of rum back onto the table, glancing down and watching the contents slosh around.

"Perhaps 'e jus' thought he was doing what was best fer ye, Jack," Barbossa sagely said. "He doesn' seem t' like 'is marriage t' tha' Lauren woman a' all. Maybe 'e wanted t' save ye from wha' 'e thought was a mistake." The older man shrugged, glancing down at his bottle of whiskey and wishing it would refill itself.

"Perhaps," Jack replied, moodily picking up the bottle and taking another drink of whiskey. It was true that Bootstrap was less than happy with Lauren. Jack had only seen him write her two letters the past few years. Unlike his brother-in-law, Matthew, who was constantly bragging about his wife and children, Bootstrap would only bring up the topic of Lauren and his son William if perturbed to do so. If he was drunk enough, Bootstrap would talk about his son. But he never did like to say anything about Lauren if he couldn't help it.

"I'm fairly sure tha's the only reason he'd ever wan' t' hurt yer feelin's, Jack. Bootstrap is yer bes' supporter." Barbossa sighed softly, seeming a bit put-off by admitting this. "Besides, it probably is bes' tha' ye did leave 'er. As Calico Jack always said, "women are jus' a load of trouble. An' love is a fairy tale they make up in order t' keep ye around." Ye should follow 'is advice an' forget abou' this Meagan."

"I really don' wan' t' forget abou' 'er, though," Jack admitted softly. "She was the mos' perfect thing I've ever seen, an' I let 'er down." He started spinning his rum bottle around, watching the alcohol splash the sides as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Not that there was much left in the bottle, but the little bit still in there was enough to slosh around like waves on a very turbulent sea. The pitching of the Pearl had lessened somewhat during Jack and Barbossa's conversation, though the small leak near the door was still letting water through in a fairly steady stream.

"Jack, there be no sense in beatin' yerself up. Wha's done is done. If she couldn' accept the fac' tha' ye've sowed yer oats wiv someone else before, then she obviously wasn' the girl for ye. Yer a pirate, Jack, an' ye couldn' stay faithful even if ye wanted to. It wouldn' 'ave worked out in a million years." Barbossa glanced earnestly at Jack, wishing he could impart some of the knowledge he'd slowly gained over his life to the saddened captain.

"Yer probably right," Jack finally relented. He knew it was true-as real as his love for Meagan had been, he already found it to be fading. And he'd only been away for a week. Even if they hadn't been in a fight, Jack doubted he could've stayed loyal to her. If he'd married her, he would've eventually tired of life at land, just like Bootstrap. Perhaps the gangly pirate had done him a favor, but Jack really just wanted to be mad at him.

"Of course I'm right," Barbossa replied. "I've seen it all before. Many a fine sailor gets it in their 'ead tha' they need t' marry someone. An' more than 'alf of the time, 'e ends up leavin' 'er for months or years at a time t' answer the call t' his true love, the sea." He sighed, slowly standing up and putting the whiskey bottle in a small rubbish bin by the door. Oddly enough, the rubbish bin was nearly full of water as Barbossa noticed another leak. "Ye know, Jack, we migh' 'ave t' do an overhaul o' the Pearl again. She's a very old ship, an' tis been quite a while since the las' one."

Jack nodded, still deep in thought. He supposed that what Barbossa had said was true. His first love was of the sea. And he decided that any woman who'd take him away from the sea wasn't for him. "Aye, we should. Probably before we go t' Asia, eh?" Chuckling slightly, Jack finished off the last of his rum and stood up. Of course, the idea of going to Asia had just struck him as a rather good idea. It would help him to get his mind off Meagan if he went somewhere with completely different customs.

"Probably," Barbossa replied, rather surprised to hear Jack say that. He smiled faintly, however, as he noticed that Jack was determined to act more like himself. This was very good, for the crew had started to slack a bit. Not to mention the fact that Barbossa almost felt like a father-figure. This was a rather odd feeling for the pirate, but he happened to slightly like it.

* * *

**DragonHunter200**-Don't worry, I gave Jack a slap from each of my loyal reviewers for treating Meagan that way. And this isn't the last of her that we'll see. But I'm giving away too much...sorry for taking so long. Had a bit of a case of writer's block.  
**Daisy**-Well, maybe you shouldn't distract me so much. Or, perhaps you should poke me. Then I'd work on my chappie more often. Makes my replying rather slow, if you didn't notice today. And I'm glad Jack ish single again. Someone that hot shouldn't be tied down to one girl.  
**sunkist3208**- Poor Whitney and the whole starting school a few days before me. I know how you feel. But you shouldn't give up hope on updating before Wednesday. I know you can do it! And thanks for your support! I wouldn't be able to keep it up without reviews...  
**Alteng**- I don't know...but that is a rather good question. I suppose Jack was too wasted to realize that the door was unlocked. At least, I think that would be his excuse. And it was rather cold of Bill. But you've got to remember-Jack was marooned and Bootstrap wasn't. There must've been some fallout some time. And I hope you liked my portrayal of Barbossa this time. He seems to always be changing his character in my mind.  
**Rachel Sparrow**- Well, perhaps Bootstrap is a bit of a hypocrite. Hopefully Barbossa's thoughts can somewhat clarify why Bootstrap did what he did...unless it was Matthew. Well, it wasn't Matthew. But it could've been...and thanks for the review!  
**Aliana Archer**- I've been wondering where you disappeared to...but thanks for discovering my sequel! And thanks for the loverly review. But Barbossa won't stage that coup for quite a while yet...  
**Jack**-No one else here is Jack. This is my response to you. And I'm glad that you caught the whole emerald eyes. Actually, in the first draft, she had brown eyes the color of a coconut tree...thank you immensely for the review!


	9. Abogado De Diablo

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this, savvy?  
  
AN (8/17) -Right, then, I'm sorry for the boring chapters as of late that my mind has been churning out. This sequel is a lot more on the boring side than its predecessor. And I'm apologizing for that. I realize many of you enjoy swashbuckling immensely. I do myself. But, for some odd reason, I've been churning out a bunch of psychological stuff. And I'll apologize again. 

Chapter 8:_ Abogado De Diablo_

"Cap'n Sparra?" a rather clueless voice said near Jack's ear in the galley. Most of the crew were busy eating their dinner, and it was rather noisy in the crowded room. Especially on the table directly across from where Jack was sitting. Robert, Kaman, and Vicktor appeared to be getting into a fight over what the meat they'd been served exactly was. Kaman insisted it was beef, Robert thought it was pork, and Vicktor thought it was goat. Vicktor had always been a bit of an oddity, and Jack really hoped that he wasn't right. Something about eating goats seemed to disturb Jack. When Jack didn't respond, the voice seemed much more urgent as he said, "Captain Sparra!" and put his arm on Jack's shoulder.

Jack turned to look at the person who had invaded his private space (while he enjoyed invading other people's space, he didn't like it when others did it to him when he was unaware of their presence) glaring slightly. "Wha' is it, Ragetti?" he asked with a slightly exasperated tone, setting the biscuit known as hard tack that he'd been eating down on the table.

Ragetti blinked, a vacant expression in his eyes as he tried to remember exactly why he'd come to talk to Jack anyway. He sighed softly, sudden recollection coming to his blue eyes like the sun coming out after a particularly harsh rainstorm. "Cap'n Sparra! There's a ship on the 'orizon!" he said proudly, bowing slightly as if proud to be the bearer of this news.

"An' tha' should interest me how?" Jack easily questioned, arching one of his eyebrows slightly as he surveyed the rather odd man with stringy blonde hair that appeared to have never been washed.

"Pintel thinks tis a merchant," Ragetti replied after another long pause. Talking to him was usually almost like talking to a brick. At least with the brick, there was a reason why it didn't give an intelligent answer to questions. Jack personally thought Ragetti'd had fallen down quite often as a child.

Jack frowned slightly, not trusting Pintel's judgment either. Pintel might have been more intelligent than Ragetti, but it was not by much. Sighing, he stood up after pushing his chair out from the rickety table. "Well, show me the ship then." Jack's voice bordered on amused and annoyed as Ragetti nodded and tromped out of the galley. Jack swiftly followed, though it seemed he was rather bored all at the same time. If there was one thing Jack was good at, it was being at two different extremes.

Ragetti stopped rather abruptly when he spotted his friend Pintel. The dirty pirate was only four inches taller than Pintel, but he seemed much more because of Pintel's weight. Not that Pintel was particularly rotund, but Ragetti had the appearance of a scarecrow next to him, making Ragetti seem much taller and thinner than he actually was. "Show the Cap'n, 'Enry," he said proudly as Jack nearly ran into him.

Pintel nodded, angrily eyeing Ragetti as he saw Jack straighten out and act as though he hadn't nearly been clumsy. "Righ'. Cap'n Sparra, look 'ere." Pintel started pointing out at the horizon to the west. It didn't seem to bother him that the sun was shining directly in his eyes, and Jack had to squint to see the faint outline of a ship. It was probably too far away for them to catch, and Jack couldn't tell from this distance if it was another pirate ship, a merchant ship, or even if it was a Naval ship. Unless it went directly towards the _Pearl_, he'd probably never find out what it was.

"'Enry found it, Cap'n. Lookin' straight a' the sun because 'e thought 'e saw a ghost." Ragetti nervously laughed, clearly indicating that he was terrified of anything that might be deemed unnatural.

Jack glanced back over at Ragetti, blinking a few times as he tried to get used to not seeing the sun. Truth be told, Pintel had probably just been trying to scare Ragetti. Either that, or get the man to look directly at the sun. "Well, tis too far away t' tell exactly wha' it is yet," Jack announced, much to both Ragetti and Pintel's dismay as lights danced around in front of Jack's vision. "If it starts comin' closer, I wan' ye t' inform me again. Bu' wait until ye can tell wha' sort of ship it is, savvy?"

Pintel nodded, looking slightly ashamed that he'd even had Ragetti go and bother Jack. "We jus' thought it migh' be tha' Spanish ship Barbossa was talkin' abou', sir. Mean' no 'arm by it." His rather ratty hair looked, if anything, worse when the sun hit it. Rather than shining, Pintel's hair seemed rather musty and full of vermin.

Ragetti soberly nodded. "Aye. Mean' no 'arm by it. Sorry fer disturbin' ye durin' supper." His mouth twisted into a rather lopsided grin, and Jack wondered if he'd ever tried to impress a girl with that particular smile. If he had, Jack was fairly certain that the girl would've run away screaming.

Jack smiled faintly in return. "Tis no problem. Saved me from 'earin' a discussion as t' wha' exactly the meat is." He chuckled faintly, wandering back down to the galley to finish off the last of his biscuit. When he'd left, Pintel gave Ragetti a resounding whack to the head, telling him off for getting the captain for something so unimportant.

* * *

A very sultry voice softly said, "Why, Captain Sparrow, you do have quite a flattering tongue!" A fan fluttered softly as the woman who'd spoken blinked her sapphire eyes a few times, clearly indicating her approval of the situation. Her eyes were symmetric-both curved slightly upwards at the same time and were the same shape, almost like some sort of mutated blue almond. 

Jack smiled, putting his hand gently on her milky white one. "Miss Mallett, I do not jest. You truly do wear the most attractive garters I've seen. You have a lot of fashion savvy." He was sitting next to the beauty on a small love seat upholstered in fine green satin, dreamily staring at the fan and imagining how beautiful her face was behind it.

Miss Mallett coquettishly laughed. There was something very odd about the way she was laughing, though. It seemed almost wooden. "Captain Sparrow, you are a tease." She slowly moved her hand from under his, gently touching his shoulder to draw him nearer. She slowly lowered her fan as Jack's lips nearly touched the black object with curious symbols engraved on it in gold.

Jack smiled impatiently, grabbing at her hand and pulling the fan down faster, quickly kissing her. Slowly opening his eyes after feeling a bit of hair stubble against his cheek, Jack nearly swore. What he saw shocked him. Instead of an adorable nose and pouty red lips, Miss Mallett had a crooked nose and rather dry, manly lips. Her eyes suddenly changed as well, and Jack realized he'd just kissed a man by the name of Anthony Ragetti. Ragetti opened his mouth, calling out, "Cap'n Sparra!" with a slightly sultry voice.

Jumping forcefully backward, Jack hit his head on the maple headboard his bed was connected to. Swearing, Jack realized he'd just been asleep. And that Ragetti was knocking on his door, calling out his name. Sticking his tongue out in disgust and feeling like he needed to wash his mouth thoroughly out, Jack slowly got out of his bed, one hand clutching the top of his head as a small bump started to form, the other buttoning his shirt back up. In about three steps, he reached the door and opened it, glaring at the man who'd ruined his dream. "Wha' is it?"

Ragetti blinked, wondering, first of all, why he was standing in front of the captain's quarters. Then he wondered why Jack was holding his head. Then his mind processed the cruel look Jack was giving him, and he felt a bit ashamed for waking him up. That's when he remembered his whole purpose in coming. "Cap'n Sparra, the ship is only a few leagues away. Barbossa said twas the ship 'e was talkin' abou', laden in all manners of swag."

Jack frowned, rubbing at his eyes with his right hand. As his rather tired mind finished processing what Ragetti had said, he suddenly smiled, looking vaguely like Ragetti. "Well, then, get the cannons ready. We've got a pig t' gut."

* * *

The battle definitely was not going well. As a shimmery moon danced in the fumes of gunpowder and splinters of wood coming from both ships, Jack realized that they'd made a horrible mistake. This ship, called the _Abogado De Diablo_, was definitely carrying more guns than it looked capable of holding without sinking. 

A sharp crack to Jack's left made him flinch as a spray of wood went everywhere. A few small splinters hit his face, but he paid no heed to the rather intense pain that brought on. His determination to never surrender or flee was definitely combating with his common sense. If the _Pearl_ stayed here much longer, he wouldn't have a crew anymore. Already a few of his men were laying on the deck, wounded beyond repair. The reason they were beyond repair was because Eric, the surgeon, happened to be one of the one's who'd died instantly as a small grapeshot cannonball hit him in the head. Jack doubted he'd ever get the image of bits of Eric's brain shooting out the back of his head through the exit wound.

Bootstrap appeared at Jack's side, looking rather confused and just a bit pale. He blinked his caramel brown eyes, adjusting his focus on Jack as an ominous breeze blew. "Jack, we need t' get out o' here! This is a ruddy massacre!" His hands were lined with gunpowder and blood, and it was clear he'd been down in the gun deck when a particularly bad barrage of metal hit that region.

Jack numbly nodded, turning the _Pearl_ away from the melee. Fortune seemed to have abandoned the crew of the _Pearl_, for the wind was contrary to what they needed. The _Abogado De Diablo_ followed the _Pearl_ like a fox preparing to pounce on its prey. In a few minutes, the manpower of the _Abogado De Diablo_ won, and Spaniards started streaming onto the deck of the _Black Pearl_, cutlasses slashing and pistols firing in order to stun the pirates. Several people fell to the deck with barely enough time to look surprised.

Jack pulled his cutlass out, charging at a few men as Bootstrap did the same. After the initial shock of actually having enemy sailors board the _Pearl_ wore off, the remaining members of the crew began fighting with a very zealous attitude. They all loved the _Pearl_ like a younger sister. The tide soon turned, and the Spaniards started to retreat towards their ship.

Jack, while engaged with a rather handsome youth who didn't happen to be particularly good with a sword and appeared to be around seventeen, was glancing around at his remaining crew. Stout Sam was stealthily holding back a short and skinny man who resembled a nail. Barbossa was diligently striking at a terrified looking balding man. Kaman was holding two swords and fighting three different people at the same time. Pintel was busy loading his gun to shoot someone who'd taken his sword.

When Jack's eyes stopped on Ragetti, he suddenly blanched as he saw a man dig his finger into Ragetti's right eye, making a horrible squelching noise that everyone seemed to hear as Ragetti screamed out in absolute pain. The fighting momentarily stopped as crew mate and enemy alike looked at the blood running down his cheek, everyone but the most crude wincing to a degree. As Ragetti fell to the deck and a shot was heard (for Pintel had shot the man who'd just impaired his friend), the fighting resumed as though it hadn't been paused.

As Jack parried each blow the young man kept sending his way, he really wished he could speak Spanish. The man was probably giving some sort of snappy quip each time Jack nearly got hit by the sword or nearly missed a block. Or, for all Jack knew, he could be completely insane and be addressing Jack as his mother, though he doubted that.

The youth seemed to be getting more sure of himself with each blow. Soon he was showing off, taking his time to block and looking quite happy with himself. This was exactly what Jack was waiting for. During one of the unnecessarily long pauses the man made, Jack quickly thrust his sword into the man's left knee, bringing him to the deck of the _Pearl_. Jack still had problems killing people, so he'd merely hurt them so they couldn't hurt him. Stepping over the screaming youth who appeared to be only fifteen now that he was crying, Jack went onto his next opponent.

* * *

By the early hours of the morning when the great sun finally decided to show its disgustingly cheerful face with hues of blood red, orange, and pink, it seemed that the captains of both ships had made some sort of agreement. After shaking hands with a bald man wearing a rather ugly moustache, Jack ended the whole fight. Both needed what remained of their crew to make it to the next port. After the Spaniards had left, Jack glanced around to survey the damage to his mistress of the sea.

There were massive holes all along the sides of the _Pearl_. Even the mast had managed to catch a few bullets and sword swings. It still proudly stood erect, a beacon to those who'd survived. Out of the thirty-something crew Jack normally kept, there were only a handful left. Kaman, Pintel, Stout Sam, and Barbossa were busy tending to Ragetti's squashed eye. Bootstrap, Daniel, and Matthew were busy checking bodies for life signs. Everyone else was either dead or appeared to be dead on the sullied stained wood of the _Pearl_. It was really quite a miracle that Jack had reached an accord with the captain of the _Abogado De Diablo_. They'd been very close to winning the _Black Pearl_ as a second ship.

Jack was numb as he kneeled next to Devon, quickly ascertaining that there was no pulse. He was definitely living impaired. Sighing slightly and trying to ignore the carnage, Jack passed over a Spaniard who was muttering some sort of prayer in his mother tongue, quickly checking on Robert. The fairly cultured pirate looked quite relaxed, and for a minute, Jack thought he'd survived the horrible gash to his neck. It was not so-Robert had died as any man wanted to-with dignity and acceptance on his face. He'd proudly stared death in the face and had won a small concession. Not many pirates could claim in the life after this one that they'd died at peace, for the sea was a very cruel mistress indeed.

Frowning, Jack slowly closed Robert's eyes for him. He weakly stood, suddenly feeling quite nauseous from the sights and smells and sounds that inevitably accompany death and injury. His head seemed detached from his shoulders, and Jack was reminded of the first man he'd killed. Sure, he'd killed one or two more since then, but death still bothered him. He swore rather loudly at the sun, scorning its ever-blissful face and kind disposition. The sun shone on murderers and saints in the same way, having no knowledge of what the trivial insect of man was doing, and that seemed to irk Jack right now. After he'd finished a rather long deluge about how horrible the sun was for even daring to look at his crew, his ship, Jack hastily swaggered to the railing, letting all of last night's dinner loose into the sea to be devoured by all manner of sea creatures. He was not looking forward to the burials-the sharks that often trailed behind ships would have a feeding frenzy.

* * *

**Hafae a.k.a. Hufflepuffer242**-What an odd coincidence...I got your review just as I finished this chapter. And I'm glad that my story got your mind off school, for that's why I write it. Well, not to get your mind of school, but to get my mind off school. Thank you oh so much for leaving a review! I think I'll give you a Kudos bar...and I love your shirt too! Well, not really, but if I could see it, I'm sure I would love it.  
**DragonHunter200**- Well, Barbossa had to be trusted by Jack just a bit. Jack wouldn't have told Barbossa where the island was if he didn't think what Barbossa said was accurate. And thanks! Luck is always nice.  
**Mrs Capt Jack Sparrows**- Thank you for the review! I really appreciate it! You've got to remember that Bootstrap was aboard the _Pearl_ when Jack was marooned, not stuck on the island with him. And I hope you enjoy this rather morbid and violent chapter. I really didn't intend for it to turn out that way...  
**Rachel Sparrow**- It does make more sense, doesn't it? It isn't like Bootstrap wasn't doing it for a reason. And Jack really is better off living back on the sea, he just doesn't realize that. Thanks for being such a faithful reviewer!  
**Jack**- Glad that you liked it, my friend! And I hope you can find it...I like to have critiques or comments on my writing. Helps me improve as a writer and better convey what I mean to. Thanks for the review! Hope you like this chappie. I really let my morbid side come out again.  
**Daisy**- Is this enough action for you? Or do you want some that isn't so morbid? Actually, I had a reason for this chapter...it will all make sense in the end. Or, it should make sense in the end. And the mutiny tis at the end of the book...unless I change my mind and put it in the middle.  
**sunkist3208**- If you updated more often, I'm sure you'd get more reviews. And I like to use the word odd, don't I? It's rather fun. Not to mention I can't spell eerie. Most of the time when I use unique words, tis because I can't remember a word or I can't remember how to spell a word. Hope you like the Ragetti and Pintel you see here...they're fun!  
**Aliana Archer**- Well, everybody in the world has at least some good in them. Or, that's what people say. Perhaps Barbossa is just trying to gain Jack's favor...or, perhaps he really is giving what could be considered fatherly advice. The problem of writing a book chapter by chapter and posting each one online is that I really have no idea where the story is going to go sometimes. Or if it will ever tie into the prologue...thanks for the review!


	10. Deuces

Disclaimer: Once again, I must state that I do not have permission to be writing anything like this. I merely do it because I like to escape reality while recording what I think would make Jack the way he is. 

AN (8/27)- I've only been in school for five days, and I'm already quite sick of it. I've decided that teachers like to swamp seniors with homework (especially when said senior is taking 5 AP classes), so I probably won't have much time to update. Which is odd, considering the fact that I have two English classes...but no free time in either of them. I shall update as frequently as I can, so keep on your toes if you want to learn what happens next.

Chapter 9: Deuces

It was nearly dusk when the _Black Pearl_ limped into Tortuga, heaving one final breath before nearly fainting in exhaustion. After all of her passengers stepped firmly onto dry ground, the _Pearl_ seemed to be panting, the exertion of the arduous journey with numerous holes in her side finally catching up to her. A few hours later, she tipped over, though that was to careen, or remove, the massive amounts of barnacles that had started tickling her spacious belly and to re-patch up some holes that had been hastily stuffed when discovered. Seeing a ship upside down in the dark is rather like seeing some gigantic turtle tipped onto it's side, unable to move and appearing quite sharp.

Captain Jack Sparrow was watching the entire operation, worry in his eyes. If one could compare the illustrious captain to something, it would probably be a man waiting for the birth of his first child. There were footprints in the sand from him pacing almost deep enough to provide a drinking source to the numerous chickens roaming the island if it rained. His clothes were in tatters; due to the fact that everybody who'd survived that disastrous raid on that heavily armed ship had to put more than one hundred percent of their best efforts in. Ships like the _Pearl_ were hard to sail with only a few people, especially since Ragetti was too much in shock to help at all. They'd bandaged his eye as best as they could, hoping that the specialist that resided on Tortuga would be able to do more, especially since his eye looked like it might be getting an infection.

It was hard to tell if Jack was in such an uncharacteristic mood because of the numerous burials at sea he'd been in charge of or if it was just the anxiety of what the very capable men were doing to his ship. Seeing her being careened like that was just a bit disconcerting. As he made his footsteps about an inch deeper, Jack decided that watching like this wasn't a good idea. He should be on the lookout for new men to add to his crew and not leave it just to Barbossa. And at least wet his lips a bit with his favorite beverage.

* * *

"Deal me in," Jack said with a slightly slurred voice as he sat down in a small tavern called Night's Rest near the docks of Tortuga next to several brothels that Jack had been to. He liked to gamble once in a while. It was a good distraction that didn't necessarily cost as much money as pleasurable company and he was able to converse with the local drunkards and the ever changing sailors that graced Tortuga with their presence. Therefore, it was a pretty good place to find some more fine, upstanding examples of loyalty to join his crew. Five cards were quickly placed in front of Jack as he anted up. 

Slowly reaching over, Jack pulled his cards off the table, glancing at them like he might glance at an old friend. He had an absolutely horrible hand, yet he didn't let that register as the bidding started. Trading three cards, he finally ended up with a pair of deuces, the weakest hand one could have in poker. Apparently whomever had taught him to play the game hadn't told him to bet on a worthless hand, so Jack was soon in a bidding war with a rather tall and black man calling himself Koehler. Koehler seemed to be in no hurry to stop upping the amount in the already large pot, and Jack found himself betting copious amounts of money he really didn't have over a pair of twos.

As Koehler put in another ten pounds, Jack began to get a bit worried. Pounds were rather stable forms of currency during the early part of the eighteenth century (worth about $160 in modern US currency) and Jack really didn't know if he dared carry on the charade any further. He couldn't exactly withdraw, though, for the stakes were much to high and he'd gone this far. He might as well just continue bluffing. Keeping an eerily straight face, Jack matched Koehler's bet and raised it by a crown.

Koehler seemed to be getting a bit worried now, a faint bead of sweat forming around his hair-line and giving him the impression of having just come out of water. The barest trace of doubt went across his face as he met Jack's bet and called.

Jack sighed to himself. He'd been hoping to force Koehler to fold, even though he knew the chances of that were very small. The air in the tavern was tense as Koehler revealed his cards first-a full house, Aces high. Everyone in the room seemed awed by that hand, breathlessly turning to watch Jack put his cards down. As Jack did, looking mighty confident even though he knew he'd lost, a great deal of laughter broke out amongst the crowd. A nervous type of laughter that didn't seem to be able to be contained, it soon spread to everyone except Jack as they stared at his lowly pair of twos. How could he have been so stupid to bet so much on nothing?

After the laughter died down, Koehler rightfully took his pile of money. The other two persons who'd been in the game were glaring at Jack. They'd both had hands that could've beat his. Jack grinned to them, carefully eyeing the pile of money he still had left. He decided that he wanted to win now as he watched the cards hit the table in front of him and the crowd talking about him behind his back. Wanted to show them all up.

The room slowly quieted again as the gamblers took their cards and surveyed them carefully. Jack slowly reached across the table and glanced at his cards, looking at them with a rather disdainful look. A Jack of hearts, a Queen of hearts, a ten of hearts, a King of hearts, and a three of spades. Nothing unless he'd be able to get another card with those red hearts on it. The highest hand if he could manage to get the Ace of hearts. But Jack hadn't ever gotten a straight royal flush in his life. Come to think of it, he'd never gotten a royal flush or a straight, either.

The betting started as it always does-rather low. All three of the men at the table were having a very hard time taking Jack's bets seriously. Sure, they'd love to milk him for all he had, but it just seemed too easy. Perhaps the fairly infamous captain hadn't ever played poker before-a rather hilarious situation. Gambling and playing with cards was common among all sailors-it helped pass the time between ports.

The dealer, known as Simbakka, slowly asked each player how many cards they wanted, starting with the person to the left of him, known as Nipperkin. Odd nickname for a sailor or pirate, but one doesn't get to choose their metonym. He probably had some sort of interesting story behind it, but Jack really didn't care. He was only faintly interested to hear Nipperkin ask for three cards. That probably meant that he had nothing good or no ace, for if you don't have an ace, the most cards you can switch is three. Koehler came next, taking two. This either meant Koehler had three of the same card, or was trying for something like a flush or a straight. It could also mean nothing-perhaps he was just bluffing. But Jack knew that wasn't so when he noticed a faint sparkle in the black man's brown eyes. He'd just gotten whatever cards he'd been looking for.

Jack slowly put down his three of spades, his heart beating like some sort of African drum as Simbakka handed him a new card, face down. Slowly inching his fingers forward while possessively cradling his other cards to his chest, Jack pulled the new card back and picked it up, putting it behind all of his other cards. He didn't want to look at it until after the betting stopped and everything was called, afraid that if it was something good, he'd give it all away by his reaction. Nipperkin confidently started the bidding at about a crown.

The bidding progressed to just about the same numbers it had been before, Koehler pushing Nipperkin and Simbakka out of the betting with the sheer amount of money he'd just won from Jack. Jack, even though he had no idea what the last card was, kept matching Koehler, determined to earn his old money, plus a little more, back. When he was almost out of shillings, Jack slowly met Koehler's last raise and called. Generally, the person who did the calling showed his cards first, but Koehler must've been confident he'd won, for he threw his cards triumphantly down to the table and announced, "I've a straight flush," with a victorious sound to his somewhat raspy voice, preparing to take the money from the table.

Jack frowned slightly-the only thing higher than a straight flush was a royal flush, and he wasn't even sure if he had one. "Don' think tha' ye've won yet," he remarked glibly, putting his cards down one at a time. First came the Queen, then the King, the Jack, the ten, and finally, the Ace of hearts. He'd actually won. It took a while for that to hit everyone on the table, especially Koehler. When he'd realized that he'd lost as Jack started pulling the money towards himself, he swore quite vehemently. "A royal flush beats out a straight flush," Jack commented, noticing the look Koehler was giving him and speeding up the whole process of getting his money. This did not look good.

Koehler swore again, slamming his hand onto the table. "You cheated!" he proclaimed, murder written in his eyes. "Give me back me money!"

Jack frowned, though he did not pause in his rapid retrieval of the various coins. "I did not cheat," he replied, sounding rather indignant at the mere suggestion of him cheating. "This is me money fair an' square, mate." After grabbing the last shilling, he stood and bowed to Simbakka, Nipperkin, and Koehler. "I'm afraid tha' I mus' bid ye farewell now," he said with a frown. "Sorry t' leave like this. Got things t' do, women t' see."

Koehler, Simbakka, and Nipperkin stood, all of them clearly thinking he'd cheated. "Why don' ye stay jus' a bi' longer, Captain Sparra?" Nipperkin asked boldly, taking a step towards Jack's chair.

"Aye," Simbakka agreed. "We jus' wan' t' 'ave another round. Wan' t' make sure tha' ye din' take all of our money. It would be a cryin' shame if ye swindled us." His voice was as hard as rough diamonds as he started approaching Jack as well.

"Gentlemen, please. I may be a scallywag, miscreant, an' thief, bu' I am no' a cheater," Jack replied, trying to step backwards. He found his way blocked by a wall, and suddenly remembered that he'd been the lucky person who'd been able to sit next to the rough stone wall and use it as a backrest. It worked much better than those rickety wooden chairs that always seemed to give you splinters if you sat up straight in them.

"I find tha' hard t' believe," Koehler replied. The three men were now within reaching distance of Jack. Koehler glanced at his companions. "I think its time we taught 'im a lesson."

Jack looked like he was about to reply to that comment when a sharp jab to his stomach forced all of the air out of his lungs. Gasping, he looked like he'd protest about that as a punch connected with his jaw, giving the distinct sound of something breaking. Now, that could either be Koehler's fist or something in Jack's mouth, and by the way his lower gums were screaming in agony, Jack was rather certain his molar had broken in two. He didn't react-nor did he have time to-as Simbakka hit his eye with the force of a rampaging bear trying to defend her cub.

Jack staggered as much as the wall would allow, cursing his decision to sit here. It made him the perfect target because he had no where to go and the wall acted as such a nice stop, making the back of his head hurt as the inertia traveled from their fists to his body and stopped abruptly at the wall. As each of the men pulled their hands back to strike Jack again, Jack feebly lifted his arms up to block them. It didn't work as he was hit in the gut, face, and neck a few seconds after each other. The crowd that had been watching the whole gambling scene were eagerly putting up bets as to how long Jack could handle the beating.

As the three dirty men pulled their fists back again to punch Jack, Jack slowly reached down and pulled out his pistol. "Gentlemen," he said with rather slurry speech, trying not to slobber all over the floor. "I fink va' if enough." He was just about to cock his trusty pistol when Koehler hit him across the face again, hitting the other side of his mouth. Simbakka hit his hand, making him drop the pistol, and Nipperkin hit his stomach, making him double over in pain again, falling to the floor. Once there, they proceeded to kick him until he was unconscious.

* * *

Jack woke up several hours later as a wench with long blonde tresses gently pressed a cold cloth to his head. He looked horrible-most of his face was an ugly color of purple or an indignant shade of green. He breathed and moaned as fire filled up his lungs, struggling to focus. "How long 'ave I been out?" he managed to say clearly, though his mouth was killing him and his cheeks were swollen.

The woman shrugged. "I dunno, luv. Found ye on the floor like this abou' ten minutes ago." She looked quite sympathetic, her pale blue eyes staring at him curiously. "Ye know, ye should probably find out who did this t' ye. I fink they took yer money."

Jack sighed, slowly nodding, even though it hurt just to blink. "I know they did, luv. Tha's the las' time I ever gamble." He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool feel of the rag on his head seep through his mind. Everything was becoming clearer now, and when he opened his eyes again, he could focus properly. "Can ye 'elp me up?" he asked his angel of mercy with the scandalously low-cut dress.

She nodded, crawling back and standing up after helping him to a sitting position. "I think ye should probably see a surgeon," she commented, reaching down with her soft and powerful hand.

"Probably," Jack admitted, his eyes glazing over. "Bu' I think I'll be fine wivou' bein' bled." Most surgeons and doctors used the old leech technique or tried to bleed the problem out of their patient. Jack found everything they did but setting broken bones codswallop, so he decided long ago not to use a surgeon unless forced to.

The woman laughed lightly, though she seemed to think otherwise. It wasn't her place though. "Goin' t' take me hand or not?" she asked impatiently. "I don' 'ave all day t' be charitable."

Jack smiled weakly and grabbed her hand, slowly standing up. There was dried blood on his cheek, and as he looked down at the floor, he could see why there was blood there. His nose was also sporting the dark brownish-red of dried blood. "I don' ever wan' t' see those three again," he muttered to himself, bowing slightly to the woman and struggling not to wince. "Thank ye, me kind lady. I'd compensate ye, bu' I've been mugged."

She laughed, amused by this odd man who she'd honestly thought was dead. "Not a problem, sir. Jus' remember t' ask fer me the nex' time yer 'ere. Me name's Elizabeth, bu' everyone calls me Lizzy."

"Thank ye, Lizzy. An' I promise I shall. Bu' firs', I need t' wash the blood off me face." Jack smiled weakly and bowed again, uneasily taking a step forward and walking away from the very generous strumpet. She really proved his theory-there were all kinds of people in each profession. The bartender gave him an odd look, rather surprised to see him walking, but Jack really didn't care. People always gave him looks like that, wondering how he could always walk like a drunk man and why he did his hair so peculiarly. Jack really just wanted to stand out, for he knew if he was recognizable, more people would know him.

* * *

Kay...my replies this chapter will be a bit short, because I'm leaving in about ten minutes to visit a college campus.

**Daisy**: Bet that you didn't think I'd actually use that name, eh? And I hope this chapter was action packed enough. Thanks for the review! You're a very helpful support!  
sunkist3208: And you still need to update. But I can understand writer's block. Horribly nasty thing, it is. Thanks for leaving your thoughts! I enjoy reading your oft-times sugar crazy reviws.  
**Rachel Sparrow**: Thanks for finding it so funny! And I realize that he does need compensation, but I'm too lazy to do research...I'll get around to it. Thanks for leaving a review!  
**Laura**: Yay! You finally lefted a review! I'm so happy! I'm glad you found my last chapter so vivid...I really could've gone into more details.  
**DragonHunter200**: Thank you for being such an ardent supporter! I was laughing my head off when I typed up that dream. It has some significance, though...I'll get into that later, maybe, unless I forget about it. Anyway, thanks for your compliments and your review!  
**Alteng**: I figured you'd be proud of me for building up Jack and Barbossa's relationship. Though, I just did something that will be a bit of a letdown...we'll see how Jack takes it, though. And Barbossa's appearance...all described by what Jack sees. He really isn't that much of a stick, but Jack doesn't know that...And, yes, that's what the Spaniard means. But I didn't get to that this chapter, though I really intended to. Hope you recognized some of the names, though...  
**Jack**: I thank you for your honesty and hope that you enjoy this chapter better. It is still slightly morbid, but not anything like the last one. No eyes getting poked out.  
**Eccentric Banshee**: Though you won't see this reply in ages, thanks! I love your fanfic too! I'm so glad we bumped into each other on the boards...and I plan to finish off yours, after I get back from the college I'm visiting.


	11. Mold

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still do not own any of the characters. 

AN (9/9)- I'm sick and tired of school. Wears me out. Plus, it makes me feel rather stupid. On the positive side, I've been learning more about writing in English class. Should help me to progress as a writer. Please review! It discourages Erica when she gets less than seven reviews...

Chapter 10: Mold

Jack sighed slightly, pacing in front of the men lined up next to one of the preliterate taverns in Tortuga. They all looked like they'd be fine additions to his crew, yet he wasn't sure which ones he didn't want to accept. Barbossa really had outdone himself by finding so many men that wanted to be pirates and had an IQ higher than the average incandescent lamp. He'd found nearly thirty, but Jack really didn't need that many to replace those of his crew he'd lost through his stupid actions.

Jack suddenly stopped in front of a fairly tall man with a beard. "Do ye 'ave the courage and fortitude to stay certain in the face of danger and almost certain death?" He seemed to be staring the man down, eager to find someone too weak to join his crew.

The man nodded. "Aye aye, Cap'n!" he responded like a troop being drilled. He didn't even flinch as Jack leaned in closer to examine him. His eyes were full of hope and slight respect.

Jack smiled. "Very well, then, mate, welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_." He stuck his hand out, clearly wanting the man to introduce himself as he glanced him over again.

"The name's Twigg," he answered, glancing at Jack's hand curiously. A rather crazy thought went across his mind as they shook hands. Jack's eccentric personality was bound to rub off the wrong way on some people.

Jack nodded and smiled. "Welcome aboard, Twigg. We'll be settin' sail in a week, unless somethin' comes up. Be prepared." He bowed slightly and backed off, feeling rather redundant and glancing at the rest of the people lined up as Twigg walked away to talk to Barbossa.

* * *

In the end, Jack sent ten people back. They didn't seem to have what it takes to be a pirate. Dog Ear, Clubba, Monk, Scratch, Scarus, Danny, and Wick were among the men he'd deemed worthy enough to join his precious ship's crew. There were several others, but Jack really couldn't remember their names as he sat in a tavern, sipping on some rum. Across from him was Bootstrap, and to Bootstrap's side was Matthew. They'd been here for about an hour now, sharing neutral stories about looting ships. Women were never discussed amongst the trio, for Matthew was happily married, Bootstrap realized Jack didn't want his advice ever again, and Jack still thought that Bootstrap had betrayed him.

Leaning into the table, Matthew glanced at both Jack and Bootstrap. "Listen 'ere," he said softly, beckoning them forward as well. There seemed to be a glint of excitement in his brown eyes as he waited for Bootstrap and Jack to comply.

Jack looked at Bootstrap as though asking him where he'd found the crazy person. Bootstrap shrugged, leaning in to listen to Matthew's whatever it was he was going to say. Jack quickly did the same, nearly hitting his head on a small candle in the center of the table. They both glanced at Matthew with similar looks of confusion, though Jack's was harder to read.

Matthew grinned to himself, feeling quite proud of his ability to make these experienced pirates listen to him. "Well, I was walkin' along the beach las' night when I ran in'o an old friend of mine, from England." He paused, glancing between Jack and Bootstrap as though that were a crucial piece of information. After receiving several odd looks, he continued. "He tole me abou' somethin' tha' I think ye'll find quite interesting, Jack." Matthew slowly put his hand down into the pocket of his pants, withdrawing a rather dingy looking piece of paper that could easily be mistaken for a flat piece of moldy bread.

"An' wha' is tha' supposed t' be?" Bootstrap asked, staring at the object carefully. "Did 'e give ye lunch or something?"

Jack chuckled, chiming in, "No, I think tha' the lad is goin' t' use it t' feed the crew. There's enough green stuff t' stave off scurvy on tha' thing."

Matthew laughed lightly, slowly shaking his head and ignoring his brown hair as it hit him in the eye. "No. Cap'n Jack, I'd like t' present a treasure map t' ye, compliments o' Nathaniel Butler." He held the small green paper out to Jack, waving it like a parent tempting a child with sweets.

Jack eyed it carefully before grabbing it from Matthew's grasp. "Nathaniel Butler? I din' think 'e had tha' much swag." He played with the document warped from water, wondering if he should bother unfolding it or not.

"Well, tha's wha' 'e wanted everyone t' think, apparently," Matthew replied. "He really did 'ave quite a stash. Unfortunately, I can't read the map. Tis in Latin or somethin'."

Jack slowly unfolded the map, surveying the reddish-brown writing with a curious look in his eyes. "Tis written in blood," he said softly, putting his index finger underneath the curious letters. They seemed strangely familiar. "This definitely isn' Latin," he said, glancing up at Bootstrap.

"How d' ye know tha'?" Matthew asked, clearly confused. Jack didn't seem like the kind of person that could tell if a language was Latin or not. He also didn't seem very scholarly.

Jack chuckled, glancing over at Matthew. "Tha' would be because I know how t' write Latin. These symbols are definitely English-no sort o' accents a' all. Butler mus've thought it would keep people away from 'is treasure, disguising 'is map in some sort of code. Bu' everythin' is meant t' be broken." Jack glanced carefully at the browned blood, trying to work out what it said. The solution eluded him, unfortunately, so he merely shrugged.

Matthew stared at Jack with a curious mixture of idol-worship and slight fear. If Jack could read Latin...well, that was rather remarkable and quite significant. Most pirates couldn't even read in their vernacular. Realizing his mouth was gaping, Matthew sheepishly shut it and glanced away. "Well, Cap'n," he finally stated, "I suppose tha' ye'll wan' t' go for it. I've heard tis more money than one man could ever spend."

"I highly doubt tha'," Jack said with a slight chuckle, choosing to ignore the rather cowed look of Matthew. That was something he didn't want to address-it would bring up questions of his childhood. Actually, he almost wished that Bootstrap hadn't ever seen the home he'd grown up in. Pirates did not respect a man from a high status in life, generally, and since Jack was working to become the most known pirate in the Caribbean, he couldn't afford to let his past catch up to him.

Matthew shrugged in response, trying not to become Jack's target. Even though he knew that Jack wouldn't act superior to him (more conceited, yes, but not superior) he was now afraid that he would. Something about a proper education scared him towards the line of distrust. "Jus' wha' I've heard," he muttered, leaning back and taking a drink. "I'll le' ye think of it," he said, abruptly standing and leaving the table.

Bootstrap watched Matthew go, a faintly worried look on his face. Shaking his head slightly, he reached for his mug and took a drink of the alcohol, not bothering to look Jack in the eyes. He'd been having a hard time doing that lately, almost acting as though he had a guilty conscience.

Jack frowned, glancing at his closest friend. "D' ye think I should've tole 'im I knew Latin?" Sighing slightly, he took a drink out of his own mug, his dark brown penetrating gaze never leaving Bootstrap's lighter brown eyes as he waited for a response. Jack was remarkably good at pretending some things never happened.

"Well," Bootstrap replied after careful consideration. "It probably wasn' the wisest thing. Bu' I really don' know why tis upsettin' 'im so much. Who cares if ye once took Latin lessons?" He felt vaguely uncomfortable as he looked back at Jack, getting the impression that he was looking at himself through Jack's eyes.

"He shouldn' care. Bu' it appears tha' 'e does. Maybe 'e has some sort of bad memory of church." Jack chuckled easily, more to relieve the tension between himself and Bootstrap than to laugh at his particularly bad joke.

Bootstrap wasn't amused at all by Jack's rather weak joke, nor did he particularly want to ease the tension between the two of them. "Jack, some men find it unnervin' when their captain knows more than a pirate should," he replied cryptically. Sighing slightly, he stood after dropping two coins to pay for his and Matthew's drinks. "I've got t' go, Jack. Few things I need t' teach the new crew members."

"By all means, go," Jack replied, not even glancing up at Bootstrap again. The taller man really was getting on his nerves lately. His new crew members really couldn't glean much information from Bootstrap while the _Pearl_ was anchored. Sailing wasn't something you could learn from stories. Sighing as Bootstrap left, Jack picked up his mug and finished off the last of his rum, eager to move onto something less discouraging.

* * *

"D' ye think I should go after it?" Jack asked, glancing down at the greenish map sitting on the table between himself and Barbossa. He was now in a different tavern, drinking from a different mug. The rum here tasted faintly dirty, but that could be the fact that Jack was sure the bartender hadn't cleaned this mug. It also tasted faintly of whiskey. 

Barbossa seemed to consider it for a while. "Well, Jack, I can't say tha' I've heard of any sort of bad connotations connected to Butler's treasure. Bu' the map tends to indicate he'd have some sort of protection, if 'e went all out t' put his map in'o a code." Barbossa liked making vague answers. He'd probably be a good diplomat to some small country, if he'd ever considered politics as a job.

Jack sighed softly, tracing the writing on the map with his left index finger. It could be risky-and Jack was rather tired of making risky ventures. Even though he was a pirate, there was a point where enough was enough. If he put his entire crew in harm's way again, Jack might find a mutiny on his hands then next time he tried a venture like this. Or, he might come across as the wrong sort of pirate. But the lure of gold is very strong, and Jack felt as though he needed to get enough swag to satisfy his old crew as some sort of apology for what happened.

Barbossa was watching Jack carefully, seeming to guess what the eccentric captain was thinking. "Well, Jack, if I were captain, I'd go after it. Some of the crew are rather upset over the whole Spanish thing, an' ye still 'aven' paid Ragetti for 'is eye."

That was true-Jack hadn't paid Ragetti for the eye he'd lost. There was an agreed upon compensation for pirates and sailors alike if they lost a body part. It was one of the things generally in the pirate's code. Specifically, for the _Black Pearl_, Jack owed Ragetti eight hundred pieces of eight for something as valuable as an eye. He didn't have that money right now, so it seemed inevitable that the _Pearl_ would have to go after the treasure of Nathaniel Butler. "I suppose we will," Jack replied, though he didn't seem to thrilled about it. The whole idea of a treasure map seemed rather alien to Jack. Why would a captain horde his swag for so long if he could spend it on pleasurable company and alcohol? Not to mention the costs of running a ship that could be feared in the Caribbean.

Barbossa nodded slightly. "Good idea, Cap'n. Tis for the best. Can't have a debt t' Ragetti too long, seein' as ye can't let 'im go until his choosing." Men who lost body parts in battle had the privilege of being on the ship as long as they wanted as part of their compensation. It was useful-a pirate with one leg couldn't really find other work if he had to leave his ship.

"True," Jack replied with a sigh. That was a frightening thought; having to keep Ragetti on the _Pearl_ until Ragetti tired of being a pirate. The thought also happened to be a rather nauseating one, so Jack took a deep drink of his rum.

Barbossa nodded again, the wisps of his brown hair slightly showing the pearly gray of experience. "I can 'elp ye wiv the map, Jack. I have a friend who can figure out any sort of code." He put his weather-beaten hand down and picked up his own mug, taking a drink of his whiskey in much the same way Jack had just had a drink of his.

Jack pondered that idea for a moment, rolling it around in his mind like a large round boulder rolling between two hills. Finally, he reached a decision as he stared numbly at the map. "Tha's alrigh'. I can figure it out meself." He wasn't being stubborn or independent-now that he was rather drunk, it was starting to make sense.

Barbossa shrugged and slowly stood, seemingly a bit disappointed in Jack's response. "If yer sure, Cap'n." When Jack nodded, he pushed his chair back and pulled out a coin, dropping it onto the table for the barmaid. "If it doesn' work out, jus' find me," he grunted, turning and walking away from the table like a drunk fox.

Jack really didn't hear Barbossa's grunt as he continued to stare at the letters. Something about them seemed rather simple, yet complex at the same time. Whomever had drawn the map had very nice handwriting, though, for it almost looked like calligraphy and was very small and each letter was easily distinguished from the previous. Blinking a few times, Jack moved his finger from the map. Something about it was gnawing at the back of his mind like the mice that enjoy gnawing through sacks in the bilge. He supposed that sometime in the near future, he'd suddenly shout, "Eureka!" and run to his ship to search his maps. The one island he could see looked vaguely familiar, though it was a familiarity that seemed to come from a dream.

* * *

**Laura**- Whoo hoo! A cupcake! Just what I've always wanted! And I'll try not to beat up Jack so much. Shame on me and my sadistic streak. And it did take you quite a while. But that's okay, I'm often rather slow on many things as well. And you probably shouldn't gamble. I explained the two highest hands. There's a lot of other ones that you could get, and some rules I didn't go into...  
**Alteng**- Well, they do. But not yet. Barbossa does have it out for Jack. But if he didn't, there'd be no reason for Barbossa to incite the mutiny, after all. And you're right. Bleedings did work. But not for things like broken ribs. Twas more for things like pneumonia that bleeding did anything.  
**PussInBootsAndMunkizNamedJack**- Thank you! Especially for leaving a review! Sometimes I feel like I'm writing for just about seven people. Nice to know that other people are reading as well.  
**Jack**- I liked this last one better than the one before it as well. Though, the dream with Ragetti was kinda fun. But so was the poker match. Thanks for being honest. I like to know when people have a problem with my work. Have a cookie! And my names...well, some come from the guild. Most come from Meagan means pearl, Kent means white...so, she's like the antithesis of the _Pearl_. Anyway, I also use suggestions from people.  
**Daisy**- You should expect me to use your suggestions. Tis why I ask. And don't you shave your armpits? Not that I have any right knowing. And I know...just think of the Elizabeth in my story as looking like your sister but acting like my sister-in-law. Not that she's a strumpet...hmmm....and of course I am! Why wouldn't I? But all in good time.  
**sunkist3208**- I notice you haven't updated yet...what happened to the whole Monday thing? Ah well...I know you'll eventually update again. I mean, tis hard to keep churning out ideas all the time...and thanks for the review, as always! Hyper, sugar-fueled reviews are always interesting. And I'm glad you like my descriptions...I honestly think of myself as bad at descriptions.


	12. Felines

Disclaimer: I still don't own them...sorry. I really forget why I have to put this on every chapter. Then I remember that Disney is greedy... 

AN (9/14)-Well, Erica likes to be oblivious. Completely forgot to put into the last chapter that Jack's eye was still black. But that's okay. I really don't want to go back and fix it, seeing as I'm lazy...

Chapter 11: Felines

A wrinkled piece of greenish paper lay exactly in the middle of Jack's desk. There was nothing else on top of the oak piece of furniture, and it was exactly in the middle. Jack's head was slumped on the side of the table, trying to get a different perspective of the paper. He'd tried turning the map upside down, folding it in various ways, and even put it to steam; but nothing of the gibberish in English letters made any sense. And it was very frustrating. Especially because Matthew and Barbossa kept ask how it was going. Not that Jack really wanted to admit where the map said the gold was. He'd heard tales of how dangerous that could be, especially for captains with new crews. It wasn't that he didn't trust Barbossa and Matthew, it was just that he was uneasy. Besides-it was hard enough for him to see the pattern without them breathing down his neck.

Jack sighed for probably the thousandth time today, reaching over with one of his hands and slowly tilting the greenish paper to the left side. His chin was starting to hurt-the beads in his beard were rather uncomfortable to rest against. He really wanted to give up, but didn't want to face all of the hype from Barbossa, Matthew, and probably even Bootstrap. Plus, he'd be agonizing over how close he'd come. Holding the tilted parchment, Jack let his vision blur. Sometimes that helped him find patterns.

As Jack blearily glanced at the tilted paper, he suddenly saw the letter R as plain as day. Well, maybe it wasn't as plain as day-it was turned backwards. Trying to not get too excited, Jack continued his look over the paper again. Soon more letters became apparent. Some were backwards, others were upside down. Grabbing a sheet of paper from a drawer inside his desk, Jack quickly wrote down the letters in the order that made the most sense. When he'd finished, he let his eyes focus again so he could read what he wrote. The parchment underneath his arm read-"Rebekah, Portobello, 1367."

Apparently it was some sort of address to a woman named Rebekah. Jack frowned slightly-what if this treasure map had nothing to do with treasure at all? What if this Rebekah was considered by Butler to be worth money? Then again, this Rebekah character might be able to make sense of the gibberish. Or, perhaps she had the real copy of the map. Raising his head slightly, Jack picked up his bit of parchment and ripped it up into small shreds. He didn't want his crew to know why they would go to Portobello. He'd make it seem like he'd given up and they were just going to pillage around there. Didn't want their hopes for a whole bunch of swag dashed to pieces if it turned out Rebekah didn't know anything and wasn't even alive anymore.

Jack took the pieces of paper and stepped out of his cabin, walking with his curious step towards the railings of the _Black Pearl_ and letting the papers fly freely down towards the water. He was breathing oddly as he watched the bits of paper swirl around. He'd finally caved in and had sought out medical attention after Simbakka, Nipperkin, and Koehler had cracked a few of his ribs. Now he was wearing a tight binding over his torso. His black eye was nearly gone, though, and Jack was glad for that. It was very painful to put kohl on a swollen eye. Not to mention the fact that his new crew members thought he was rather violent or something.

Once the last bit of paper hit the blue-green sea, Jack pivoted around on his left foot, heading towards the gangplank leading down to the docks. He had a crew of miscreants to round up. Couldn't sail very well by himself, especially not with his cracked ribs.

* * *

The journey to Portobello took about seven days because of favorable winds and Jack's new crew who wanted to impress their captain so they worked much harder than they'd be working in a few weeks time. The weather was starting to turn sour, almost like milk that's been warm for too long. Winds whipped Jack's hair into his face as he guided the _Pearl_ towards the docks of Portobello. Barbossa was busy barking out orders for the crew to lash the sails down-the immense thunderclouds headed their way didn't look particularly inviting. Then again, it was the Caribbean, and every year the monsoons came and left their marks on both land and sea. 

Before Jack really realized it (for he was wondering exactly what the numbers on the map had meant), the _Pearl_ gently sailed into the harbor, floating amicably next to the docks after the anchor had been released with a splash into the sea. Jack took a moment to tell his crew all about what they'd be doing tomorrow-which included a rather risky raid on the governor's household, but that they could enjoy themselves tonight. After that rather fragmented advice of sorts, Jack left the _Pearl_, wondering where to start looking for this Rebekah. Just a house number really wasn't that helpful, and Jack realized just how many homes there were in Portobello as he started walking up and down all of the streets. It really amazed him how different everyone's social status could be in the same town. There were mansions up on the hill, frowning down upon the rest of the town. Some were bigger than a few cathedrals Jack had seen in England a few years ago. Some were so full of expensive stuff on their massive lawns that it seemed rather obscene. Just a few blocks away, homes were about the size of longboats with leaky roofs. They were made of simple wood, rather than bricks and marble, in some cases. Disgusting.

It really was boring walking all throughout the town. Not to mention rather embarrassing. Not for Jack, of course, but other people. Like a woman who happened to be partially nude in a home near a window saw Jack looking at her. She blushed a delicate shade of red everywhere. Not that Jack even noticed-he was glancing at the number next to her head. He grinned, and the woman blushed an even darker shade of red, hastily closing the curtains. That wasn't why Jack had grinned, though. The number on the house was 1365. That meant that the home next door was where he was supposed to go. Too bad the map had failed to mention that the house would be on Hope Street.

Still grinning, Jack seemed to walk with a greater bounce in his unique stride as he walked next door. In front of him was a respectable house-the lawn was very orderly, the flowers in bloom. The house itself seemed too cheerful for this particular neighborhood-it was painted an ecstatic yellow, and Jack got the distinct impression to throw up as he knocked on the rounded door. On top of the white door, the numbers 1367 were displayed in what appeared to be actual gold with some sort of flowery font. Despicable and very un-pirate like. As the door opened, Jack made his face emotionless so that he wouldn't betray his purpose for coming here. At least not yet.

In the doorway stood a fairly rotund woman with rosy cheeks as big as a small pumpkin. She seemed fairly tall-probably only one or two inches shorter than Jack, but probably weighed twice as much as he did, if not more. It was scary how well she filled up the doorway. Jack doubted he'd be able to force his way in if she stood there. "Yes?" her uncharacteristically deep voice with false pleasure asked. If Jack didn't know any better, he'd think the woman in front of him was a man based off her voice. The numerous hairy moles didn't help much. The only thing that tended to indicate she was a she and not a he was her dress and bosom. Men didn't generally wear dresses, nor wear make-up to hide blemishes.

Jack coughed uncomfortably. "I'm lookin' fer Rebekah, milady. Is she around?" He felt vaguely uncomfortable as she stared him up and down with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes and a suggestive grin on her face.

The woman nodded, batting her eyelashes as though she had something in her cavernous gray eyes. "I'll go get her, sir," she intoned with her deep voice, stepping back. "Would you like to come in?"

Jack really wanted to say that he didn't...but he needed to see this Rebekah. Hopefully she wouldn't look anything like this hairy woman that could be mistaken as a man. It didn't help that she had a few wrinkles on her face, and as she smiled, Jack really wanted to glance away and try not to let his lunch loose all over his shoes. "Aye," he replied, hoping his voice sounded sincere. Apparently it was close enough to being sincere, for the woman motioned him inside the home. Jack stepped up, frowning slightly at the woman's decorating taste. It was so cute, it was disgusting. Figurines of porcelain cats were everywhere, as were some of the largest cats Jack had ever seen. Two of them were sitting on the pink love seat. Well, it wasn't exactly pink. Jack was fairly sure that at one time it had been pink, but the black and white fur of the gigantic cats made it sort of a dusky rose.

"Have a seat, sir," the woman said, pointing towards the hairy chair next to the one the piles of fur with noses were occupying. "I'll be back in a moment." She took a few lumbering steps towards a staircase, shaking the whole house as she placed each barefoot down on the ground.

Jack stared at the seat with apprehension, but did as the woman asked, trying to ignore the hairs that flew up as he sat down. Both the cats eyed him warily, their green eyes clearly showing that he was not welcome here. Jack grinned apologetically, though he didn't know why, and the cats went back to their napping. Sighing, Jack waited for the woman to drag herself to the top of the stairs, trying to ignore the pungent smell of animal feces in the air. The room, for all of its cute figures, was incredibly filthy. Cat hair covered everything, and Jack was fairly sure one of the corners was full of discarded food. How people could stand living like this was beyond Jack, for he'd always been rather neat at home as a child.

Jack could hear a door open and the woman's deep voice as she talked to the girl named Rebekah. He sighed to himself, nearly jumping out of the seat as another cat jumped onto his lap and started purring. This one was fairly thin, with a whole smattering of colors gracing its mostly brown fur. Jack didn't exactly like cats, but as this one rubbed its head along his hand, he noticed the odd tan markings around its eyes. Almost looked like it was wearing some feline version of kohl. Jack smiled and pet the animal, feeling some sort of odd attachment to it as he heard the woman and someone much lighter clambering down the stairs.

As they reached the bottom step of the creaking staircase, Jack turned slightly to try and get a look at Rebekah. Though it really didn't matter what she looked like, Jack hoped she was at least fairly attractive. If she was anything like the woman who'd opened the door, Jack didn't think he'd be able to say anything more than hello to her. Unfortunately, the top of the chair was in his way and all he could see was the disgustingly low-cut peach dress the woman was wearing. Sighing slightly, Jack turned his attention back to the brown cat vibrating on his lap. Its hair was currently tickling his fingers as it stretched across his lap, kneading very sharp claws into his legs.

The woman shooed the two large black and white cats off the couch, sitting down with a resounding thud as she glanced at Jack. "What do you want?" she asked, motioning for Rebekah to sit down next to her.

Jack really didn't know what to answer. He hadn't expected to find the house, let alone someone named Rebekah living inside. He was about to make some sort of answer when Rebekah did as the woman motioned. She was a vision of beauty in this house, willowy (at least in comparison to the woman) and graceful. She floated down onto the chair, glancing at Jack with plainly visible curiosity in her brown eyes as she pushed a strand of winsome blonde hair behind one of her ears.

As both the woman and Rebekah stared at him, Jack somehow managed to find his voice as the cat dug its claws into his leg again. "Well," he started, wondering why he was here again. That's when he remembered he had the green map in his pocket. "I know tha' this is goin' t' sound incredibly odd, bu' I found a map wiv Rebekah's name on it an' this address." The cat hissed slightly as Jack shifted around in his seat, reaching for the map in his pocket. Once he'd found it, he pulled it out and showed it to both the woman and Rebekah.

The woman shook her head, clearly confused, but Rebekah sharply took a breath of disbelief. "Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice sounding correct for her generous curves. She glanced furtively at Jack and then back down at the map.

"One of me mates found it an' gave it t' me," Jack replied. "Do ye know anythin' abou' it?" This was a good reaction indeed-perhaps he would be able to get the map solved after all. Now that he'd gotten used to Rebekah, she really wasn't all that beautiful. In comparison to the woman sitting next to her that was bending the couch under her weight, she was a goddess.

Rebekah nodded, glancing at the woman next to her. "Mum, can I have a few words alone with this gentleman?" she asked softly, clearly not wanting to discuss the map in front of the biggest gossip in Portobello. "I promise that it will only take about ten minutes."

The woman frowned, clearly not liking that proposal. The look Jack had given her daughter was very disturbing, and she didn't seem to think it was hypocritical that she'd surveyed him in the same manner when first opening the door. "Rebekah, you don't even know his name," she reminded her, glancing over at Jack with a look of disgust.

Jack interjected, "The name is Captain Jack Sparrow, milady. I jus' want a quick word wiv Rebekah. Tha's all." The cat on his lap resumed its purring, kneading into his legs again as he absent-mindedly started stroking it again. Little hairs were flying around the chair, attaching themselves to both Jack's clothes and the chair.

The woman sighed and slowly stood. "Well, Captain Sparrow, if you so much as touch my daughter, I'll give you a whipping like you've never had before." With that, she slowly lumbered out of the room, nearly knocking down a dusty cupboard filled with those cat figurines. When she'd left, the white cat with a big black spot jumped onto the couch where she'd just been.

Jack had to struggle to keep from chuckling as he sneezed. Blasted cat hairs really tickle your nose, especially if you haven't been around animals for such a long time. The brown cat on his lap tensed as Jack prepared to sneeze, catapulting itself off when Jack expelled air with the force of a hurricane. Jack winced, glaring at where the cat had been. Stupid animal had used its claws to get an added boost of speed.

"Captain Sparrow," Rebekah started, standing up rather unexpectedly and grabbing the map. "This belonged to my grandfather, Captain Nathaniel Butler. Before I explain how to read it, you have to promise me one thing."

"And tha' would be?" Jack asked as Rebekah paused. He started rubbing at his legs, trying to get the massive amounts of fur the cat had left there off.

"You have to take me with you," Rebekah replied.

* * *

**Laura**: My action packed ones are better, aren't they? Oh wells...I try. Hope this one wasn't too boring. It is all leading up to a few action packed chapters in the future...And, yay! A crayon!  
**PussInBootsAndMonkeyzNamedJack**: I try to update at least once a week. Doesn't always happen...but I try. And if I wasn't updating anymore, I'd have something that said I'd given up or what have you. Thanks for leaving the review!  
**DragonHunter200**: Oh, that's okay. I was just wondering if you were alright. I'm glad you enjoyed my last chapter. Hope you like this one. And I'd like to thank you for being such a faithful reviewer! I know I forget a lot...and the chappie before my last one isn't exactly how you play poker...tis something you really have to experience.  
**sunkist3208**: Aye, your toughest critic is always yourself. Oddly enough, on the boards last night, I met someone from Rum and Tweed who didn't think she was good enough to join my board. Kinda odd...and the Titanic is spiffy! I'm jealous that you went to such a fun exhibit! I'm sorry that my last chappie was so confusing to you. And I hope you can get more free time eventually...all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.  
**Jack**: You're welcome for the cookie. This time you get a brownie...and I'm glad you liked the tension between Jack and Bootstrap.  
**Daisy**: Go multi-tasking! And armpits. Those are always fun to discuss. I always pull everything out of my armpit. My homework, my ideas for chapters...etc. I like armpits. And I'm glad that you shave your armpits...I was very worried for a while there. And you get a cookie if you can figure out the thing about the cats...


	13. Eight

Disclaimer: I do not have permission t' be writing this, savvy? Please don't tell Disney that I am... 

AN (9/18): Woah. I actually had a cliffhanger ending (although it wasn't too cliffhanger-y). Are you proud of me? And to explain the whole cat thing from the last chapter...well, they're based off my families' kitties. The brown one (and mine) is named Simba, and she really does look like she has tan kohl around her eyes. The black one is Wicket, the white one with the black spot is Patches. There's a reason why I'm catgirlutah.

Chapter 12: Eight

"Take you with me?" Jack repeated, frowning instantly. Not a good idea. "Rebekah, luv, ye really don' wan' t' come aboard me ship. I'm afraid me men would...well, ye know."

Rebekah frowned, indignation shining in her brown eyes. "Captain, I can't help you unless you take me with you," she insisted. "And I refuse to decipher this map." She folded her fairly thin arms across her chest, her left hand picking mindlessly at her sapphire blue dress. She seemed slightly nervous, though her voice tended to indicate otherwise.

Jack frowned and slightly rolled his eyes. He had no choice but to bring her along now. But he didn't think his crew would approve. And they probably would try to take advantage of her. "No," he stubbornly replied. "Too risky. I don' wan' yer mum t' get mad a' me." He really didn't want that elephant of a woman mad at him-she could probably kill him by sitting on his lap like many strumpets enjoyed doing. In the next room, he could hear her mother's heavy breathing, and it was really making him uncomfortable.

"Captain Sparrow, I'm the only one who will be able to show you to my grandfather's treasure," Rebekah insisted. Her voice was full of pleading, and Jack realized she probably didn't like her mother either.

Jack shook his head faintly, but said, "Very well," in a quiet voice. Loudly, he said, "No, Rebekah. I'll jus' 'ave t' forget abou' this whole idea." The breathing in the other room stopped for a moment, and Jack was fairly sure that her mother was waiting for Rebekah's response. Either that, or the pig had died suddenly and without any noise. Jack frowned as the brown cat jumped onto his lap again, resuming its purring as though it hadn't been disrupted in any way.

Rebekah pouted for a moment, gradually catching onto what he was doing. "Very well, Captain Sparrow. I'd like the map, to remind me of my grandfather." As Jack noisily handed her the green sheet, she smiled and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "I'll be up at the top of the street at eight."

Jack nodded, wondering exactly what she meant by the top of the street. "I'm sorry tha' it couldn' work out, Rebekah. It is jus' too dangerous for a woman t' be aboard a ship." He stood up noisily (after brushing the cat off his lap) as the breathing in the other room intensified. "G'day, Rebekah." He put his hand out, winking slightly to show he'd heard what she'd said.

"Good day, Captain Sparrow," Rebekah replied, standing as well. She took his hand and firmly shook it, a faint blush creeping to her cheeks.

Jack sighed inwardly to himself-it seemed that the key to getting the treasure had a bit of a crush on him. Oh well, he could exploit that to his advantage. Rebekah's obese mother entered the room and nodded towards Jack, a hooded look in her deep gray eyes that told him to get out of the house as fast as his legs would carry him. He did just that after bowing graciously towards the behemoth, quickly retreating to the white door and stepping outside.

Once outside, Jack breathed in deeply, smiling as the fresh air entered his lungs and expelled the rather rancid air out. He started brushing at the brown fur now covering his lap. Jack couldn't understand why people would keep animals that shed so badly and smelled up the house. They just didn't seem worth it. Then again, Jack didn't understand how people could stand living in one town their whole life. Whistling an old sailing tune, Jack decided to meander around Portobello some more until it was eight. It was only a few hours away, after all, and it wasn't like he'd get into any sort of trouble with the locals.

* * *

As eight o' clock loomed ever nearer, Jack was getting quite anxious. What if Rebekah's mother saw her sneaking out? What if Rebekah was just pulling his leg and really wouldn't help him find the treasure? What if the treasure wasn't really anything important? It could be some sort of wild goose chase Rebekah's grandfather decided to put people on. What if Rebekah refused to help him when she learned he was a pirate? Sighing, Jack continued walking aimlessly down the street, though he'd turn every once in a while and walk back the way he came. He wanted to keep the disgustingly cheerful house in his sight so that he'd know when Rebekah left her home. 

The neighbors around Rebekah's house seemed not to notice him pacing, and Jack wondered if such a thing were common place. Perhaps Rebekah snuck out of the house all of the time to meet gentlemen callers. Or maybe this neighborhood was just very uncurious about the going-ons of their neighbors. Jack doubted that. One of the major flaws in human nature was curiosity in matters that didn't pertain to them. Perhaps there was just something going on that involved most of the town. Sighing, Jack stood next to a brick building a few houses down from Rebekah's, leaning against the bricks in a manner that suggested he was bored. He sighed again and decided to wait right here.

Jack glanced sideways at the dusty red bricks as he waited for eight o' clock. There seemed to be one brick that hadn't been put in properly-it was sitting straight out, almost daring Jack to try and correct its perpendicular position. Jack frowned at the brick that was out of place, turning his dark brown eyes back towards the ugly house. He shouldn't fix someone else's mistake. Yet as the minutes slowly faded away, Jack couldn't help but keep looking back at the incorrectly placed brick. The stupid thing needed to be fixed, or Jack knew it would drive him insane. With a heavy sigh in the silent air, Jack walked over to where the brick was, slowly pushing it back in. Surprisingly, it moved with ease and soon matched all of the bricks around it. Wiping his dusty hands with pleasure, Jack surveyed the work he'd done. Perhaps he should've been a brick mason. Not that he'd really done anything that a brick mason does, for the brick slowly popped back out of place. That wasn't what caught Jack's attention, however.

A deep rumbling in the wall made Jack's ears prick up and his head turn to the left. For a brief second, Jack thought he was hallucinating as a door miraculously appeared. He frowned slightly as the door swung inward to reveal a small room with lots of cobwebs and a staircase leading down. Should he go in? Glancing up at the sun, Jack decided he should. It was only about five, after all. Still plenty of time to go explore some creepy secret passageway that really shouldn't be explored. Judging by the cobwebs, however, Jack reasoned that the passageway hadn't been used for a long time and it didn't matter if he did go exploring. Probably wouldn't find anything.

As Jack stepped inside, he was faintly aware that he was being hypocritical. He disliked people's curiosity towards things that didn't matter to them, yet here he was going to snoop through other people's property to fulfill some sort of desire he had to find out what was going on. The average person didn't have secret passageways into their home from the street. When Jack started walking down the first step, the door abruptly shut itself and it was dark. He couldn't see a thing. "Smooth move," he commented to himself, "Coming in'o a secret room wivout a torch." Sighing, he put his hands on the sticky walls and started walking down the winding staircase, trying not to be creeped out as all manner of insects and arachnids climbed over his hands as he walked.

The wall stopped turning, and a small window near the end of the corridor let in some light. It diffused into the whole room, making everything somehow look bathed in blue light. Faint outlines of a few tables and mirrors could be seen in the rather small hallway. It was probably only wide enough for one woman with her massive skirts to walk down. Frowning slightly, Jack stepped further into the corridor. There appeared to be a door at the end of the hallway, and underneath said door, there was a faint dancing orange light underneath. It probably meant there was someone inside the room with a fire of some sort. Jack cautiously pulled out his pistol as he neared the door and the small window. It was much better to be safe than sorry. As he reached for the doorknob, Jack glanced up at the window, wondering how in the world it could bathe everything in a blue light. His question was answered when he saw the colored glass. It was made out of several different shades of blue glass, almost looking like the sea. Rather, how the sea would look in a stained glass window in some church somewhere.

Jack slowly twisted the doorknob to the left and pushed the door open, cocking his pistol as he stepped inside the room bathed in orange light. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall, a cheerful fire cackling over several logs. A chair in front of the fireplace cut off some of the joyous light like a dark cloud. Jack wondered if there was anyone in the chair, for the rest of the room seemed empty. Perhaps the fire had just been lit and then forgot about. He doubted that, though. Taking a few steps into the room, Jack nearly jumped when he heard an ancient voice say something.

"I've been expecting you for some time now," the voice said, coming from the general vicinity of the chair. "Sit down."

Jack obeyed almost immediately, wondering how such an old voice could be so commanding. The person sitting in the chair near the fireplace was probably mistaking him for someone else, anyway. Why did he listen?

"Jacob, we have a few things to discuss," the voice continued, apparently able to tell that Jack was sitting down.

Jack's eyes seemed to try and jump out of his eye sockets. How in the world did this man know his real name? "Who are you?" he asked with a hint of confusion, awe, and surprise.

"That doesn't matter," the voice responded. "I need to warn you about someone." His voice had an authoritative sound to it, as well as one of slight impatience.

"Who?" Jack asked warily. It was probably Barbossa. Jack had the feeling the man was up to something, though he wasn't entirely sure what that something could be. It was just too much of a coincidence that the Spanish ship had been heavily armed when Barbossa said it was an easy pick.

"I'm not allowed to say." There seemed the slightest twinge of sympathy in his gravelly voice.

"Of course no'," Jack replied bitterly. They never did get to say straight out what was going to happen. Perhaps that's because these 'mystics' or 'psychics' were just pulling people's legs. Yet, Jack wanted to believe this man. He'd known his first name. His real first name. It still creeped Jack out.

"They will be making another move this coming month, Jacob. Watch out for the rectangles that shimmer. The rain will not make everything clean, avoid it at all costs. Remember 1365. You'll need it several times throughout your journey. Avoid the bushes." The voice stopped talking and the fire abruptly went out.

A very confused Jack remained sitting in his wooden seat. That sounded like a whole bunch of gibberish to him. He shook his head a few times, wondering how the man had known his name and how the fire had disappeared. Standing slowly up and feeling his heart beat in his chest, Jack approached the chair. He glanced over the side of the massive armchair, somehow not surprised that there was nobody sitting there. Feeling like he'd just spoken to a ghost, Jack quickly left the room, running up the stairs and finding a lever to open the imaginary door again. Once back outside the building in the fresh sunlight, he clutched at his chest and breathed deeply. Even that was too weird for Jack Sparrow. 

Once he'd regained his normal composure, Jack glanced back over at the brick that had been standing out so prominently. To his great surprise, he realized that none of the blocks were sticking out at all. They all looked like they were securely fastened with mortar. He blinked a few times, slowly edging away from the building. He would wait somewhere else.

* * *

At 8 o' clock, Jack noticed Rebekah slink out of her home like a weasel. He followed her up the street as she paused to wait at the corner of Hope and Charity. The names of the streets in this town were blindingly Christian. And rather annoying. After Rebekah started to seem anxious about ten minutes later, he let his presence be known. "Are you ready, Rebekah?" he asked to her side.

Rebekah jumped, clearly startled. She nodded, blushing slightly. "I am ready," she pronounced indignantly, playing with the handle to her small satchel and glaring at Jack with her brown eyes. She was very good at displaying two contrasting emotions at once. "Well, then, le's go," Jack replied. "Got t' get back before me crew cause too much trouble." He smiled at her, amused when she tried not to smile back. "Le' me take tha' bag of yers, luv." He held his arm out expectantly. Rebekah frowned, though it was mostly because he'd called her luv. She did hand him the satchel, however. "Alright, Captain Sparrow, I want to know exactly what sort of ship you captain." She was fairly sure he was a pirate, but wanted to make sure. "Well, 'er name is the _Black Pearl_," Jack said thoughtfully, trying not to grunt. The pack was a lot heavier than he'd expected as he grasped it with both hands. "I've got abou' thirty in me crew. Mos' of them are solid hard workers. We be pirates, of course, bu' don' spread tha' around." He chuckled easily. "I see," Rebekah replied. "Well, I wasn't expecting you to be from the Navy. I suppose a buccaneer crew will be alright. But, Captain Sparrow, do you know where I'll be sleeping? I have the feeling that most of your crew will be rather lewd. Men often are at sea, and it will take a while to reach the island because of all the tacking you'll have to do." Jack hadn't put any thought at all as to where Rebekah would be staying. Of course it wouldn't be safe to but her with the general crew. Or anywhere without a lock. Jack knew a lot of his crew were about as restless as he was, but didn't act chivalrous towards women not in the profession of pleasing men. However, the only room with a lock was his own, and Jack didn't want her to stay in his cabin either. His area was very sacred, at least in his mind, and only Barbossa and Bootstrap had a key to get in other than himself. "Well, ye could bunk wiv me," he said slowly. Rebekah seemed both disgusted and intrigued by that option. Before she could finish, she slapped his left cheek. "Get your mind out of the gutter." Jack opened his mouth indignantly, rubbing at his cheek with his free hand. "I didn' deserve that. I meant ye could sleep on the bed an' I'd sleep on the floor. Tis the only room wiv a lock. I suppose if tha' still bothers ye, I could sleep down wiv me crew." It was agonizing for him to allow Rebekah into his room. Once she was out of his hair, he'd have to spend a good deal of the money from Butler's map to get the room thoroughly clean. "Sleep with the crew," she insisted. "I refuse to sleep with a man in my room. Even the captain. It won't hurt you to socialize more, anyway." Jack sighed heavily. This was going to be a very long trip, especially if she thought she could get him to do anything. "Very well. Ye can stay in me room, an' I'll sleep wiv the crew. Bu' I won' allow any more favors." 

Rebekah smiled, clearly sure that she would, in fact, be able to garner more favors from Captain Jack Sparrow. "Very well, Captain," she replied cheerfully, a new bounce in her step as she walked towards the docks.

* * *

**Courtney**- Merci! Tis been a long while since I've seen you last, poppet...what are you up to?  
**Alteng**- I never doubted that you would! And I know. I keep running out of titles, so I pick random words from the chapter. And of course I do. They have to be on the ship at the time of the mutiny...should be interesting for ickle Jack to see them again. Poor Ragetti. He's just such a sad character, yet he manages to be so optimistic about things.  
**PussInBootsAndMonkeyzNamedJack**- Thanks! I'm just experimenting with making things more interesting...  
**sunkist3208**- Tis like a disease that we have or something. And 'writing buddies' are great! I need me a slinky...and I'm glad that I clarified it for you. And summer was like a break for me, or what have you. And I do have 5 AP classes. Dunno how I manage to put it all together. Thanks for leaving me another big review.  
**Daisy**- So it is. Glad that you liked this particular cliffhanger. And why don't you get the cat thing? The black one was Wicket, the white one was Patches, and the brown one that kept bugging dear Jack was Simba. But you can have the cookie for shaving your armpits.  
**DragonHunter200**- It took me a while to figure out what you meant by the whole hitchhiker thing. But I'm okay now. And the lady was supposed to be scary. Very scary. That's why I wrote her like that. And I hope I churned this one out to your satisfaction. Tell me if you like the unexpected twist.  
**Jack**- I hope that I got you all straightened out. Perhaps I just like to confuse people, though. Only four characters in this chapter...  
**Laura**- Kitties do make everything better! Glad you liked it. And the Nathaniel you were thinking of is Nathaniel Dennis, the man Jodi married. Nathaniel Butler was an actual pirate (which shows that I do some research). Jack's brother-in-law was technically a captain as well, though over more than one ship.


	14. Superstition

Disclaimer: I do not have permission t' be using these characters, savvy? 

AN (10/2): Hi, all! Well, hi all that read the silly author's notes I have at the beginning of each chapter. I'm updating this rather than passing out campaign signs (like I should be right now), so you should all feel special. Speaking of feeling special, my friend Katie (who is the only person that's read both of my stories on paper) told me to change the names and get it published. Good idea? Maybe. I'd like your input.

Chapter 13: Superstition

"This is your boat?" Rebekah asked, glancing over the _Black Pearl_ like some sort of teacher giving a wayward child an inspection. The _Pearl_ was peacefully bobbing in the docks in the fading light, oblivious to the world around her as she concentrated on keeping some of the larger waves from kissing her deck, a little girl afraid of some little boy that kept chasing her.

"Ship. This is me ship," Jack corrected, trying not to lose what little patience he had with the girl now. The whole walk back here had been full of annoyingly personal questions that Jack didn't want to answer. "Her name's the _Black Pearl_." Jack's voice had a touch of reverence every time he referred to his ship as the _Black Pearl_. Bordered on worship, actually.

"The _Black Pearl_, eh? I've heard her name mentioned once or twice." Rebekah smiled, giving Jack a sisterly shove on the arm before setting off to the ship running. Her skirts flew up like birds trying to escape from a cage, only to be violently pulled down again as she went forward. It was fairly funny to watch, and Jack was struck with a rather violent case of laughing as he tried to follow her. She seemed so childish now that she was outside of her stifling home, and Jack felt rather embarrassed as several of his crew eyed her suspiciously as they neared the _Pearl_.

"Rebekah!" he called out as he caught up to her. "Please don' run near me crew. I really don' think they'll give ye any respect if ye do. It'll be hard enough for me t' keep them from usin' ye." Perhaps that was why Jack had acquiesced to her request. His cabin happened to have a lock on it. Now, Jack normally wouldn't try to limit his crew's fun with a girl so willing to join them, but he had the feeling that Rebekah wouldn't help if he let them do anything more than give her a lewd glance.

"Fine," Rebekah replied with a sigh, suddenly stopping her run towards the ship with black sails and resuming a normal walk. Jack nearly tripped as he did the same thing. She glanced at him with a slightly worried look in her eyes, as though she were suddenly having second thoughts. "Using me? What do you mean by that?"

Jack bit his lip slightly, wishing she had more sense in that way. "I mean tha' they might try t' take advantage of ye, Rebekah. Ye'll 'ave t' be constantly watchin' out for yerself." Jack shook his head as he realized Rebekah had a blank look on her face still. Apparently her mother hadn't ever explained this particular subject to her before. "Look...me crew is male. Yer a pretty woman. Figure it out."

Rebekah still looked a bit puzzled, but she didn't say anything else as she followed Jack up the gangplank of the _Pearl_. Jack led her to his cabin, stepping inside before her and placing the satchel down on an armchair. "Ye'll be stayin' 'ere," he commented, waving towards a rather tastefully decorated cabin with a large bed in the center covered in a red bedspread.

"Nice cabin," Rebekah commented as she looked around and sat down on the bed, running the smooth fabric under her fingers.

Jack had to try not to cringe as she did that. He smiled slightly. "Make yerself comfortable. We're goin' t' shove off." With that, he hastily shut the door and walked over to a group of his crew who'd been watching him with avid curiosity.

"Who's the strumpet?" Matthew asked, his brown eyes glancing between Jack and the cabin. He was sitting on the deck of the ship next to Bootstrap and Stout Sam. They'd been discussing their plans for tomorrow, eager for some action in the small port.

"She's no' a strumpet," Jack insisted, taking a seat next to Matthew. "An' she's comin' wiv us."

"'S bad luck t' bring a woman on board," Stout Sam protested. Everyone turned their heads to look at Stout Sam. He wasn't one to talk much, nor was he one to question the captain's motives. "Wha's so important abou' 'er?"

It took Jack a moment to find his voice as he tried not to gape at the short man. He'd never protested about Mary and Anne under Calico Jack. Actually, Jack could only remember hearing Stout Sam speak once before. And that was to ask Jack for a forward on his pay. "Uh," he said, trying to remember what he'd been about to disclose. He glanced away to Matthew. "Ye remember tha' map ye gave me?"

Matthew slowly nodded, his brown eyes registering surprise. "Aye, Cap'n, I do. Bu' wha' does tha' strumpet 'ave t' do wiv the map ye said you'd worked out already?"

"She's the key," Jack responded. "I'd only worked out a small bit of the map, mate. Gave me an address to 'er house. Anyway, tha' "strumpet" is Captain Butler's granddaughter. An' she's the only one on earth who knows 'ow t' get t' the treasure." He smiled triumphantly at Matthew.

Matthew grinned back. "Perfect," he responded softly, greed lighting his eyes up, making them appear to be about the color of amber in the sunlight. There seemed to be a weight to the word perfect, but Jack couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. "When do we leave?"

"Righ' now," Jack replied. "Now, I know tha' I promised ye we'd sack Portobello...bu' tha's rather dangerous. Besides, Butler's treasure is rumored t' be thousands of doubloons."

Neither Bootstrap or Matthew seemed disappointed in the news that they wouldn't be sacking Portobello. Stout Sam, however, seemed quite alarmed. He didn't say anything, however, for any pirate that didn't want to find gold without much effort wasn't much of a pirate.

Jack smiled and stood up, scanning the decks for any sign of Barbossa. They needed to leave immediately. He didn't want to be stuck with Rebekah in his cabin for too long. It would drive him over the brink, for he was already stumbling near the edge between insanity that could be called genius and insanity that was just plain mad.

* * *

"Wha' island?" Jack asked, blinking. He was sitting in his room at his desk with Rebekah standing next to him, pointing at a rough map he'd bought years ago. He could've sworn she'd just said the word Rasguño. That was impossible, though. There was nothing on that small spit of land...right? Stories about it varied as greatly as stories about the _Black Pearl_. 

"Rasguño, Captain. That one." Rebekah tapped her slender finger on the island shaped like a crescent moon. "That's where my grandfather buried his gold." She smiled slightly, the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks as she glanced Jack in the eyes.

"Are ye sure?" Jack asked, hoping that she was wrong somehow. Some of the stories about this island were very dark. Tales of men being forced to stop there and hit with mysterious ailments from the water were rampant. That didn't even touch on the accounts of men stopping there and leaving with a very significant piece of equipment missing.

"Of course I'm sure," Rebekah replied. "Why wouldn't I be? That's all my grandfather ever talked about." She sighed softly, pulling her hand off the map. "I'm tired, Captain. Do you think you could leave?"

Jack sighed to himself and slowly nodded. "As ye wish," he muttered, only half-sincere as he folded the map back up. "G'night, Rebekah," he said lightly as he stood. Well, he could understand why she was so tired, but it was only ten o' clock, for goodness sake! They'd only been on the _Pearl_ for about an hour and a half. But she had thrown her old life away, after all. Sighing again, he left the cabin without another word, loathing the second he'd caved in and allowed her to stay in his room.

* * *

Jack's crew had nearly choked to death when he mentioned their destination the next day during lunch. Even the ones without food in their mouths had spluttered, coughing on their own spittle. It had taken quite a while for Jack to convince them that everything would be alright. It was just an island, after all. Curses don't exist. But many men couldn't help but wonder if they truly did. 

Pirates and sailors have always been superstitious. Going out to sea was a great risk, and men didn't want to accidentally anger the gods of the sea. Often, if a bird landed on a certain side of the ship, the captain would refuse to set sail. Women and children were never allowed on ships other than transport vessels. They would bring bad luck to all of the sailors and could cause a massive storm to come up and swallow the ship whole. Of course, men like Jack didn't believe in those sort of stories. He was the sort of man that didn't believe in the bad luck of broken mirrors or black cats. It was just codswallop in his humble opinion.

It only took about three days for the _Pearl_ to reach Rasguño from Portobello. The sea had been about as calm as it could be, quieting the worries of Stout Sam, David, and Wade that Rebekah would be bad luck. Actually, she seemed to be rather good luck. There had been a series of near accidents on the _Pearl_, but none of them had resulted in anything more than a rope burn or a paper cut. As a bonus, she'd stepped in as cook on the ship, replacing Marvin's predictable gruel each night with much more delectable dishes. Most of the crew towards Rebekah as some sort of mother-figure, telling her their problems even though they'd only known her for about three days.

Jack's opinion of Rebekah remained unchanged, though. She had a hard time talking to him when he confronted her about the map. Seemed she couldn't find the right words whenever he looked at her. Jack personally found her little crush annoying. He needed to know what was going to happen when they reached the small island. Jack couldn't get the words of that disembodied voice out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to forget the eerie experience.

"So, tha's Rasguño?" Bootstrap asked softly as he stood near the helm, glancing at the approaching spit of land with a rather unreadable expression on his face. He hadn't said much about the whole treasure map thing. Actually, he hadn't really said anything of value to Jack for the past few months.

"It is," Jack replied, tearing his gaze away from the island to look at his oldest friend. Jack doubted the air of tension between the two of them would ever completely disappear. "Doesn' appear to be tha' disturbin'."

"Well, looks are often decievin'," Bootstrap replied with a slight shrug, suddenly feeling quite uneasy with Jack looking at him like that. He studiously turned his gaze towards Ragetti and Pintel, who were quarreling as to whom should go with Jack on the island.

"True," Jack flatly commented. They'd been reduced to talking about things in general. Nice. With a great sigh, Jack glanced back at the island. "I suppose we should head out there, then, eh?"

"I suppose so," Bootstrap replied. "Best to get this nonsense behind us." That comment hung in the air for a moment, floundering like a fish on Jack's face. So Bootstrap found the whole treasure map idea nonsense. Well, it was too late not to go searching for Butler's treasure. Bootstrap bowed slightly towards Jack, leaving the bridge to break up said quarrel between Ragetti and Pintel. The two inept pirates seemed to be constantly at each other's throats these days, because Pintel would inevitably make fun of Ragetti and his lost eye.

Jack sighed to himself again. He was getting sick of the way Bootstrap was acting. If he were any sort of man at all, he'd just admit that he'd been the one who'd shown Meagan to Jack's room that fateful night. This whole avoiding the issue thing was most aggravating. "Oh well," he muttered softly to himself, straightening as Rebekah stepped out of his cabin. "Gents," he announced loudly enough to be heard over Ragetti's whimpering. All noise instantly ceased as his mostly new crew looked up at him expectantly. "Tis time t' go."

A rather ragged cheer reached Jack's ears as he hopped off the bridge. Half of the crew were absolutely excited to be going after treasure. The other half were terrified of the island itself and the talk of curses on the gold. "'Alf of ye will stay behind t' watch the _Pearl_," Jack commented, quickly picking about fifteen men that he wanted to accompany him. They were mostly of the stock that wanted to go, so there wasn't really any squabbling. "Barbossa will be in charge in me stead."

Barbossa nodded at this point, his blue eyes almost daring the crew left behind to misbehave. The energy in the crew staying behind seemed to be magically restrained as he glanced at them that way. "Good luck, Captain Sparrow," he said with grand flourish, turning his gaze towards Jack.

Jack nodded, motioning for his team to get the small skiff lowered into the sea. He really wanted to get this finished so he could pay off Ragetti for losing his eye and drop Rebekah back off in Portobello. Once the skiff was lowered into the waiting waters, Jack motioned for Rebekah to climb in. She did so, and was soon joined by Matthew, Bootstrap, David, Wade, Kael, Rafe, Dario, and a mess of others that Jack couldn't remember the name of. Saluting Barbossa, Jack got into the boat as well, and soon their little adventure was beginning.

Kael and Rafe quickly rowed the small boat to the shore. It was only a few leagues away, after all. Once they'd reached the off-white sandy shores, Jack had his crew pull the boat up onto the sand to keep the hungry ocean from stealing their ship. When that was accomplished, Jack glanced anxiously around the small island, surprised by how much vegetation there was. Flowers of almost every color imaginable were peacefully sitting on lush green grass. Some were climbing up fairly large palm trees, giving the tan wood the appearance of being dressed up for a ball. Large bushes dotted the island. Wide succulent leaves hid small red berries that looked very appetizing, even from the shoreline. It seemed to be a tropical paradise.

Glancing over at Rebekah as she brushed at some imaginary particles of dust, Jack asked, "Where do we go first?" Most of the crew were staring at the flowers, bushes, and trees with a look in their eyes reminiscent of when they were children at Christmas time.

Rebekah seemed un-phased by any of the scenery as she pulled the map out of her small handbag. She studied it intensely for a moment, turning her head to different angles to try and figure it out. Apparently she got her bearings, for she suddenly pointed towards the left. "That way, Captain Sparrow. For about a thousand paces."

Jack nodded to show that he understood and glanced at his crew. "Well, ye 'eard the woman. Go tha' way for abou' a thousand paces. An' leave the bushes alone." Something about those lip-red berries made Jack rather wary.

* * *

**Laura**: Well, that whole crazy brick secret passageway thing came from my armpits, which is why tis a bit confusing. Anyway, what the disembodied voice said isn't supposed to make sense yet. It will eventually, I hope. And I wouldn't turn it down either...silly Rebekah. And you're welcome for explaining that more...it was a bit confusing. Thanks for the review!  
**Alteng**: I don't even want to picture what Jack had to do to get Barbossa out of his cabin...anyway, he's just a big pushover, despite what he wants you to think. Anyone could really get him to do anything, especially at this point. Won't be until after he gets betrayed that he stands up more for himself. And the idea of the stowaway kitty did cross my mind...but then I'd eventually have to write said kitty's death, and that would be too sad.  
And I'm sure that whatever you have for your next chapter, it will be amazing! I can't wait to see it, as a matter of fact. And I think most towns are like that...amazing what sort of gaps there are in the world...  
**PussInBootsAndMonkeyzNamedJack**: Well, I think I was going for confusing people. You know, I even confused myself...anyway, thanks for the review! Sorry this chapter was a day late...  
**Daisy**: It was not short. Honest, it wasn't. Just as long as the chappie before it. Actually, this one is a bit shorter. Anyway, I have a certain limit I strive for...about 3,000 words per chapter. And last chappie met all the criteria. Anyway (again), I'm sorry that I blamed you. Wrong of me. So, you can have a loverly autographed copy of a Jack Sparrow picture. Or maybe an autographed picture of Billy Boyd. Take your pick. And the mysterious person wasn't supposed to make sense. That would make it too easy. Honestly, it should all make sense in the next chapter or two as to what he was talking about. Key word being should...  
**Jack**: Well, Jack is a pushover towards women. Can't say no. Feels guilty about the way he treated Meagan, I suppose...dunno. Anyway, thanks for the review and all your support!


	15. Rocks

* * *

Disclaimer: Yet again, in case you haven't noticed, I don't have permission to be writing this. Honest, I don't. I really don't like being redundant on purpose, but I feel this is necessary, just in case by some miracle somewhere some Disney official is reading this. 

AN (10/7): Mmkay. Whomever can tell me what I'm poking fun at in this chapter will get a Jack Sparrow plushie...

Chapter 14: Rocks

"Eight 'undred fifty-three." The entire company seemed to step forward at the same time. "Eight 'undred fifty-four." The giant leaves of the peculiar looking branch bristled with indignation as each step was taken, the pull of the humans forcing said leaves to leap forwards and snap backwards. The bushes hadn't been so indignant towards the strange creatures walking on two feet for quite a long time. Sailors avoided this island like they avoided a woman during a certain week of every month.

Most of Jack's crew seemed to find the island fascinating as they trudged forward, though the closer they got towards their destination, the hungrier they became. A chorus of stomachs contracting violently to announce displeasure was building with each step. Most unusual, for they'd all eaten about an hour and a half ago. Perhaps the fragrance of the multitude of flowers had something to do with the state their stomachs were now all in. Even Jack's normally quiet stomach was feebly protesting about being hungry. By the time Matthew'd reached nine hundred, Kael, Rafe, and Black Bob could stand the hunger no longer. They fell out of formation, as it were, and quickly descended upon the berries growing on the bushes like a gaggle of starving geese, pecking at the red berries with their hands and stuffing them into their mouths.

The rest of the crew looked back at them enviously before glancing back at Jack. Jack's eyes had widened and his mouth had dropped. Hadn't he told his men not to eat the berries. "Don' move a muscle!" he commanded as he left Rebekah's side and went to where the three men were gorging themselves. Black Bob had a trail of sticky red juice down his front. It seemed almost the color of blood.

"They taste pretty good, Cap'n," Kael remarked worriedly. He didn't like the look in Jack's eyes at the moment. Rafe, always the silent type, merely nodded. "Kinda like caramel."

Black Bob nodded his agreement, and before Jack could say anything in reply, Dario grabbed a berry off the bush. He smiled and muttered something in Spanish, his dark brown eyes full of pleasure. Dario had been aboard the _Abogado De Diablo_, and Jack had graciously spared his life in return for Dario's pledge to be loyal. He'd needed a few more men to make it back to port, anyway.

Abruptly, Kael started coughing. The same moment, Black Bob started wheezing. Rafe merely collapsed to the ground. Soon all three were spewing out bloody red remnants of half-eaten berries mixed with blood. Jack watched in morbid fascination, unable to turn his gaze elsewhere. What was going on?

In a matter of moments, all three men were dead and Dario was starting to display the same symptoms. He pulled at Jack's overcoat, spewing the vile mixture of human blood, bile, and berries, whimpering, "No quiero morir," repeatedly as a hacking cough and seizures ripped his grip from Jack's coat and he fell to the ground.

Many an epithet was loudly proclaimed as the remainder of the crew surveyed their fallen comrades. Bootstrap looked about ready to lose his milk and Matthew seemed so white he could be mistaken for a nobleman's wig, if he had been shaped a bit differently. Rebekah seemed about to faint, and Jack stared at Dario's body for a moment. He shook his head lightly, wishing he could just turn back. But he'd never hear the end of that. "Come on, then. We've got doubloons t' find." After that bold declaration, he started walking again, mentally counting each pace as he grabbed Rebekah's arm and pulled her along.

"Captain Sparrow..." Rebekah said, still as white as bleached bones. "Did we really just see what I think we saw?" She gulped, not glancing down at the map at all.

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. Sometimes her personality was annoying. This seemed like an innocent enough question, yet he was fairly sure she was still trying to work whatever it was on him that she was trying to work. Jack had the sneaking suspicion that not only did she like him, but she was determined to have him after her initial shyness wore off. While Jack wouldn't mind spending the night with her to please that side of her, he knew that she'd want a stronger commitment. And Jack really wasn't the type of man to seriously get involved with a girl again, since he'd vowed never to be as weak as he'd been with Meagan ever again. "Aye. They're dead. I tole them no' t' touch the berries. Clearly poisonous."

"How can you tell?" Rebekah asked, alarmed by how easily Jack was accepting the death of loyal crew members. Her eyes were mixed with primal fear and excitement for a moment, but that quickly changed to fear and uncertainty as she noticed Jack staring directly into her eyes.

"The color. An' the fact tha' I couldn' see any tha' appeared t' be pecked at by birds. Animals are smart enough t' know when somethin' is goin' t' kill them." He shrugged, glancing directly at her for a moment before glancing at the map in her hand. "Tis been about a thousand paces. Where now?" Jack asked, effectively changing the subject of their conversation as his crew mutedly fell in step behind.

Rebekah bit her lip, trying to keep herself from looking at the prostrated figures on the ground as she unfolded the map. "That way," she said softly, pointing towards the West. "For about five hundred paces."

* * *

"Wha' are those?" several members of the crew whispered, pointing towards a field covered in what appeared to be little sparkles of light glimmering in the sunlight. "Tha' would be a circle," someone sarcastically replied as another added, "An' those ones are rectangles." 

Jack was glancing at said glimmers of light with avid fascination as they continued to walk. Shimmering rectangles? What made them shine like this? And why were they headed that way? Once the five hundred paces were counted, Rebekah decided it was time for a break. She promptly fainted right next to Jack, hitting her head on a tree root. When Jack noticed she wasn't walking next to him anymore, he called the others to a halt. They all seemed more than happy to comply, anxious to look at the glittering rectangles and circles beckoning to them in the field.

Jack, however, stayed by Rebekah's side, gently helping her sit up and splashing a small amount of water on her face from a canteen at his side. She awoke with a jolt, grinning slightly as she noticed who'd helped her. "Are ye savvy?" Jack asked, his eyes full of slight concern as he glanced at her head significantly. He'd heard the thud her cranium had made when it hit the root.

"I think so," Rebekah replied with a reassuring smile, lifting her hand up to tell Jack to back off as she sat up. "Guess that the whole berry thing just affected me more than I'd like to admit."

Jack nodded somberly. "Aye, tha' mus' be it." He stood up and put his hand down to help her up. After she'd grabbed it lightly, he pulled her back onto her feet, glancing at the shimmering shapes again as he tried not to notice her blushing. Honestly, Jack could tell the girl was obsessed with him. Rather annoying. "Wha' d' ye think those are?"

"Rectangles and circles," Rebekah answered seriously. She couldn't keep a straight face, however, and laughed slightly. "Actually, they're like this." Reaching into her bodice, Rebekah pulled out a necklace of finely polished sea shells. "Its some sort of illusion-they're not really glowing. Just the sunlight being..." she suddenly trailed off, her mouth down in absolute horror. "Stay away from the rectangles!"

Jack was supremely confused by what Rebekah'd said, for she seemed to be yelling at him. Pivoting around on his right foot, Jack's mouth gaped as well. Three of his men were now inside a net. They'd stepped into one of the rectangles and had set off a booby trap. Cute. "Stay away from the rectangles," he commanded, as though they didn't realize how dangerous it was to step inside them. His men obviously didn't argue as Jack slowly approached the three terrified men hanging in a very tall tree.

One of them happened to be Stout Sam. "Cap'n...get us down!" he yelled worriedly, stunning the whole crew as he did so. The crew were watching Jack's approach with anxiety-it just so happened that there was only one circle around where they'd been pulled up. The rest were rectangles, just waiting for something to set them off.

"Don' move," Jack commanded, stepping as near to the edge of the circle as he dared. Frowning, he wondered how in the world he was supposed to get them down without setting off more traps. Reaching down, he pulled a rock off the ground and threw it into one of the rectangles, not surprised at all when a metal claw snapped around the rock. At least the three hadn't decided to step in that one. Grimly, Jack threw another rock in the same rectangle. Nothing happened, so he figured it was safe to step on. Gingerly, he put his foot lightly on the rectangle closest to where the net was hanging. It seemed firm enough, so he let more of his weight down on his foot. That's when Jack received one of the few frights of his life. What appeared to be hands started slapping together near his foot, determined to catch him. Breathing heavily, Jack quickly pulled his foot back, a large metal trap snapping just seconds later where his foot would've been. How could he not have seen it? Breathing heavily, Jack decided that _none_ of the rectangles were safe. So, he'd have to get them down while standing in the circle. Risky-almost too risky for Jack.

Of course, Jack couldn't just let his crew hang there. He didn't want his new crew members to think that he was cursed or something to lose members of his crew with every expedition, nor did he want to get more replacements. Frowning, Jack bent down again, trying to move one of the shimmering shells. It didn't work. Seemed to be cemented in place or something.

Jack didn't get the three men down until sunset. Once the shells stopped glowing in the sunlight, it was impossible to see rectangles or circles, so Jack surmised that the booby traps might not work. Thankfully, he was right. Using his unique logic, Jack managed to get all three men safely down. Once Stout Sam and the others got used to walking again, Jack walked over to Rebekah's side. She'd been watching him the entire time. "Do you think tis safe t' go in the dark?" 

"No," was her simple reply. Her gaze wandered over to his eyes as she tilted her head slightly. "I can't read the map in the dark. We'd best stay here for the night. The next part of the journey is complicated."

"Right." Jack shrugged lightly, not knowing what else to say. Glancing around at his crew, he said, "Well, gents, we're stayin' 'ere t'night. Skip, I wan' ye t' get somethin' thrown t'gether so we can eat." Jack directed the last part of his comment to a rather average man with a slightly crooked nose and long, flexible fingers. Skip nodded, pulling a knapsack off his back and getting a simple meal passed out to the famished crew.

Jack ate in silence next to Rebekah, trying to ignore her numerous complaints about the hard tack. She was not used to the life of a pirate, after all, and couldn't be expected to be used to the rather dry hard tack. It took a few years until any person stopped complaining about said hard tack. Even Jack felt like he was eating limestone or something as he bit into the dry mixture that kept so well on ships. Bread would spoil far too easy, so pirates and sailors had to live with hard tack.

Once the meal was finished, Jack's crew spread out so they could get some shut eye. Jack decided he'd sleep next to the small cave in which Rebekah felt she'd be the safest, just to keep an eye on his sometimes lecherous crew. Didn't want anything funny going on out in the open. That was just creepy. Sighing, Jack tried to make himself more comfortable on the slightly rocky ground he'd chosen, scrunching his rather dirty hair up in an attempt to make some sort of a pillow. His hand brushed against his hat as he moved, and Jack suddenly realized that it would make a much better pillow than his hair. Chuckling softly to himself for his stupidity, Jack grabbed the worn tri-cornered hat and put it under his head, thinking of vague memories of his mother as he drifted to sleep.

* * *

What seemed to be only a few minutes later, Jack sat up, nearly hitting his head on an outcropping of rocks as someone screamed. Judging by the pitch of said voice, it was Rebekah, so he quickly jammed his hat back on his head and leapt up, running into the small cave as fast as he could. She seemed to be in mortal danger, based on the scream alone.

Rebekah screamed again, though not as loudly, her face full of fear as she noticed Jack. Pointing towards a corner, she hissed, "There's a gigantic spider in here. It was crawling all over my face."

Jack had a hard time not rolling his eyes as he moved towards the corner where Rebekah was pointing. It was probably a small spider. Or a rodent. Honestly, women could be so squeamish. However, as his eyes adjusted to the dark little corner, he realized it was, in fact, a gigantic spider. If he'd known anything about arachnids, he'd realize that it was a tarantula and was a harmless tarantula, at that. It just looked like something big, hairy, and with too many legs. Trying to keep calm, Jack pulled out his pistol and shot the spider, satisfied as it fell to the floor with its legs twitching. The rocks next to the entrance didn't like this solution. The noise of the bullet seemed to be amplified in the small cave, and soon rocks started falling off the mountainside, blocking their way out.

"Great," Rebekah commented with a moan, apparently approaching hysteria as she glanced at the rock-filled entrance and started hyperventilating. "We're going to die!"

Jack glanced at Rebekah curiously-it wasn't like they were in the middle of nowhere. His crew would hear the rockslide and would dig them out. "No we're not," he insisted, walking the few short steps over to where the rocks were piled up, moving a few in an attempt to see outside. Unfortunately, it was a futile gesture-the ground on top of the cave had been littered with large volcanic rocks.

"We're going to die!" Rebekah repeated several times more, falling to the floor and sobbing for a while as Jack tried to get the rocks out of the way again. More just tumbled in to fill up the cracks. She lay in the fetal position for probably five minutes as Jack kept trying to dig his way out. He didn't want to be trapped in here with this madwoman. She suddenly stopped crying and stood, a maniacal look in her eyes as she grabbed stone after stone, throwing them backwards.

After Rebekah knocked Jack in the hand with one of the rocks she was wildly flinging around the small cave, Jack had finally had enough. "Would you stop tha'?"

"We're going to die if I stop," Rebekah answered, breathing heavily as though there wasn't enough oxygen. "This is too small. We're going to die."

"No we aren'," Jack replied confidently, rubbing at his hand. At least she was killing anymore spiders, though, with the rocks hitting random places on the floor. Spiders made Jack distinctly uncomfortable. Something about those eight legs freaked him out.

"Yes we are!" Rebekah protested, still pulling at the rocks near the door. She seemed to be very near tears again. Apparently the poor girl was claustrophobic.

Jack sighed heavily and grabbed her arms, pulling them away from the rocks. "No we aren'," he said calmly, twisting her so that she would face him. Then he did something very stupid as he saw her open her mouth to protest again-he kissed her.

* * *

**Alteng**: Well, you're right. We'll just say that Ragetti and Pintel were having a bit of an argument that day, which is why they were fighting much more than they should. Or something. Maybe Pintel is still learning where to draw the line...  
**Daisy**: I did tell you, I square. And thanks for the stunning idea! Maybe she is...and that wasn't really intended to be taken as a foreshadowing statement. Bootstrap was just trying, in his own way, to admit that he'd done something wrong. But I like how it can be both! Thanks for the review! And what happened to you passing out hats?  
**Aliana Archer:** I know. As I was writing this chapter, I had to keep telling myself that it couldn't be too supernatural. Or Jack wouldn't have ever gone after Cortez's treasure...hope you like this cliffhanger too! And he isn't allergic to kitties. Even I sneeze sometimes when cat hair gets in my nose.  
**Jack**: Aye. I should send all of the boys in my school there too. They could have a party, eat some poisonous berries, and step in the shimmering rectangles. I hope the chapter with the crazy guy who wasn't really there makes more sense now...  
**sunkist3208**: Well, I'm glad you remembered to review this chapter. And thanks for the fuzzy purple dice! They look smashing in my car! The lei ish pretty, and I plan to use the mardi gras beads this year. I'm glad you like the cliffhanger ending...I keep doing that, eh? 


	16. Caves

Disclaimer: Just in case you've forgotten, I do not have permission to be writing this. 

AN (10/12): Just so you know, I'm starting to get discouraged about writing this...so, leave me a review! I want to know how many people actually read this.

AN (10/20): Sorry for the delay...I had a busy weekend full of homework and FBLA conferences. I promise to update again this Sunday (unless I die from all of my end of term homework first).

Chapter 15: Caves

It wasn't an unpleasant kiss, nor was it something that romantics of the day wrote about and the very elite bored women read, if they could read. It lacked conviction, fire, and passion. Yet, when Jack pulled his head away from Rebekah's, there seemed to be a fire burning in her eyes in response to the kiss, as though some sort of dream had come true. Jack personally felt like he'd just kissed a repentant child on the cheek or something, rather than a woman. He wasn't attracted to Rebekah in that way at all.

Rebekah seemed to have a hard time talking as sanity gradually returned to her coconut-husk brown eyes. Finally, she spewed out, "What was that for?"

"To calm ye down," Jack replied easily, faking the sound of want in his voice. He didn't want to let her down too hard. While he spoke the truth, he also happened to be leaving a significant part out-so that she would stop hurting him and over-reacting.

"Oh," Rebekah replied shortly, a slightly hurt look in her eyes as she started twisting hair around her index finger. She smiled faintly, wondering if she should kiss him back or something. "It was nice," she said dreamily.

Jack had to look away to keep from rolling his dark brown eyes at the girl. Nice? Well, no, it really hadn't been. He'd been kissing a fish or something. If she thought that was nice, she should experience one of his famous kisses that made women around the Caribbean love and hate his name. Obviously, she hadn't been kissed often. "I suppose," Jack replied vaguely, stepping a few inches away from her. Why had he been so stupid? Now the girl would never stop obsessing about him.

Rebekah seemed to be wounded, based on the look in her eyes. Was she not good enough for him? "Jack...what do you think about me?" she asked softly, reaching over and stroking his cheek.

Jack thought about all the possible answers he could reply with that didn't result with a slap. Of course, none of them were truthful. "Yer very intelligent, Rebekah. A fine woman. Kind of girl tha' I wouldn' mind seein' a friend marry." He was trying to be as clear as possible without hurting her feelings. It wouldn't be good if she refused to help him find the gold.

"Oh," Rebekah replied lightly. All of her previous hysteria seemed to have disappeared. "Do you mean that?"

Women could be so demanding. Grinning, Jack nodded and kissed her again. Did it matter if he wasn't attracted to her at all? At least this way he'd gain some sympathy for the strumpets. They probably liked very few of their paying customers. Besides-once he had Butler's treasure, he could dump the girl off in some port.

* * *

Needless to say, it was several hours before Rebekah and Jack were freed from the cave. Neither of them got much sleep during said time in the cave, either. After the two rested for about an hour, the whole company started on their journey again, taking special precautions when they neared any of the shiny rectangles. They didn't want to get stuck again. This adventure was almost too much for any sane man to handle. 

Once they passed over the field of dangerous rectangles, Rebekah looked at the map and pointed towards the north, where a large mountain sat, glaring at the wary travelers. It seemed to have eyes-there were two evenly spaced caves up near the top. "We have t' go up the mountain?" Jack asked after some murmuring reached his ears.

"No. We have to go around the mountain and up the other side," Rebekah responded with slightly pink cheeks. She seemed anxious to get this adventure over as well. Perhaps her fantasies hadn't come true. Who knows?

"Ah," Jack replied. It would be too easy to just go up this side of the mountain. Butler sure had some twisted ideas on burying his gold.

Matthew appeared at Jack's side a few moments later as they started walking again. "D' ye think it will take much longer, Captain? I'm anxious to get my hands on that gold." However, the man was glancing over at Rebekah. She was blushing again.

"Ah...well, ye'd 'ave t' ask Rebekah that," Jack replied, suddenly feeling stupid. She'd used him. But what for? It was evident she preferred Matthew to him. Which was odd...Matthew was a happily married man with two daughters, right?

"It shouldn't take too much longer, Mister Porter." Rebekah blushed again as Matthew smiled at her and stepped back into formation, as it were. She watched him for a moment with her brown eyes, fiddling with her blonde tresses as she did so. When she nearly tripped and fell, she turned her attention back to the map and the task known as walking that is so foreign to so many people.

Jack frowned, suddenly feeling quite unsure of himself. Was he inadequate for her? Was she doing this to make him be more passionate? Was she doing this just because the whole thing meant nothing to her as well? Oh well; Jack figured he'd never understand women.

* * *

The journey towards the other side of the mountain passed in relative tranquility. There were no more apparent booby traps. The crew stayed away from the bushes and the berries. And no one complained because it would be too embarrassing to be remembered as the first one to complain on an exciting mission for buried treasure. It almost seemed annoyingly quiet to Jack as he walked along. Perhaps that was because there were no birds chirping nor insects buzzing. If it weren't for the occasional rustle in the bushes, Jack would think that the island was devoid of everything but plant life. 

The back of the mountain seemed to be growling at them as they stopped again when they glimpsed the mountain from this angle for the first time. It was as pockmarked with caves as a woman with smallpox scars. There seemed to be clusters of caves (as well as individual ones) in threes, sixes, and fives. They seemed to be a repeating pattern-there'd be one cave, next to it would be a cluster of three, next to that would be a cluster of six, and next to that, a cluster of five. They were all over the mountain, and for some reason, it kept reminding Jack of something...

Well, whatever it was trying to surface in the black hole that was his mind, Jack decided to just ignore it. "Which cave?"

Rebekah seemed a bit flustered by that question as she studied her grandfather's map. "It doesn't say," she finally announced sadly, staring up at the caves with a look of resignation. Perhaps treasure doesn't really exist.

"It doesn' say?" Jack asked, arching his eyebrow. Great. Only now did she check if she understood where the gold was. This was just perfect.

"No, it doesn't," Rebekah confirmed, squinting at the confusing map in her fairly dirty hands. "Though, I imagine it has something to do with the repeating pattern."

"Tha's helpful," Jack responded drolly. Maybe it would've been better if she hadn't made the comment at all. Jack's crew was starting to complain. "Why d' ye think it has something to do with the repeating pattern?"

"Because that's my address. 1365. Grandpa Butler built the house himself, with some of his fortune." Rebekah shrugged slightly, turning away from Jack and glancing back at the mountain.

"Great," Jack muttered mostly to himself, looking at the mountain as well. There were a whole bunch of caves with those numbers. How were they supposed to...wait a moment. Was that a cluster of two? "I think I found it," Jack announced to his crew who were just sitting down in the thirsty dirt. This island seriously needed some rain. Yet...the plants were vivid greens...this wasn't adding up. Anyway, the crew stood and gave a ragged cheer as Jack and Rebekah approached the mountain near the double cave.

"I think you did too," Rebekah said with an awed voice. It would've taken her hours to notice the inconsistency of this particular cave.

"Good job, Captain," Matthew said appreciatively, anxious to get the treasure finding underway. He seemed to nearly dance with anticipation as the crew started climbing the harrowing steep mountain. Fortunately, it wasn't vertical. The angle of elevation was just enough to make walking up the mountain stretch your calves uncomfortably, making many men go up sideways to alleviate the strain on their legs. They resembled odd crabs scuttling after some sort of tasty morsel on a beach. The poor shrubs who'd struggled to grow on this scraggly face of a mountain were soon being pulled out as each crew member used them for support to keep themselves from tumbling down into the person behind them.

They were moving at a fairly fast pace, for it is a lot easier to travel uphill with momentum, and reached the double cave in a matter of minutes. Jack had a torch lit, and the whole crew stepped inside the small overhang that opened up into a large cavern. "Tis a lo' bigger than I thought it'd be," Bootstrap commented as he neared Jack. That was the first thing he'd said the entire time. Perhaps the tall brown haired man was finally catching some of that enthusiasm from his brother-in-law. However, something about the way his face was arranged seemed wrong. Matthew was nearly bouncing in the cave, carefully examining each stone to see if any trace of gold was nearby.

Rebekah was staring at the cave in awe, faintly resembling a girl on Christmas Eve as the torchlight made the iris and pupils of her eyes dance with her repressed excitement. "Well, then...I imagine he'd put it in as far as he could."

Jack nodded towards the over anxious Matthew, who was looking at him as though he were a puppy seeking direction. Like the quiver of an arrow, Matthew raced forward behind others of the crew. Bootstrap and Jack brought up the rear, feeling rather old (even though many of the crew were older than they) as they followed the group.

"Do ye think we'll really find anythin'?" Bootstrap asked as the group ahead of them got further away. He was limping slightly. During the climb up the face of the rather steep mountain, he'd twisted his ankle. It was probably quite painful, but a life of hard work made Bootstrap almost immune to the slight twinge of pain every time he stepped forward.

"I hope so," Jack replied with a slight frown. What if they didn't find anything? The crew could turn on him. "If not...well, I'm going t' 'ave t' throttle Matthew." Jack's hands mimicked choking motions in the fading light of the torch up ahead.

Bootstrap chuckled, though it seemed a bit forced. "I'd do the same thing in yer position, Jack. His ruddy map 'as lost a few fine men." The noise Bootstrap's boots made was strangely disharmonic and it almost made Jack want to maim the other leg so the two would match as they walked down the path, following a distant light.

"Aye," Jack agreed. "Too bad I ne'er got t' know them. It'll be difficult t' work in more new crew members." He didn't choose to notice that Bootstrap paused for a second to look at him incredulously. Did Jack value his crew so little? Pointing ahead in the near dark, Jack said, "We'd bes' pick up the pace, William. They'll leave us in the dark abou' the treasure."

Bootstrap grunted in reply, still chewing on the thought that Jack didn't care for human life. It couldn't be true...or could it? Sighing, he stepped forward as quickly as he could without tripping on his bad leg.

Distances are hard to judge in dark caves, and the company of eager pirates were soon met by the limping Bootstrap and the slightly wary Jack. What if there were more booby traps? Rebekah was standing rather close to Matthew, who was now holding the torch for her to see it as they stood before a deep puddle of water that seemed quite small. It was a dead end. "Wha' now?" Jack asked, trying to keep the hurt pride and consternation out of his voice as he asked Rebekah what the map said.

He must've succeeded quite well, for Rebekah answered, "We go into the water," in her fairly wishy-washy voice. Jack's men looked at each other for a moment, as though they were daring each other to go in. There seemed to be only enough room for one swarthy man or two skinny wimps to fit in the hole in the ground.

"Is there really treasure down there?" Skip asked softly, glancing down at the silver reflection of himself in the fluid.

"Yes," Rebekah replied. She glanced up from the map. "I believe that it goes to a larger underground cavern. The treasure isn't in that puddle." The excitement was back in her voice. "You just have to dive into the waters to see it all." She glanced at the men around her. "Who will brave it first?"

No one said anything for the longest time. Apparently the sailors were afraid that the water wouldn't be deep enough. Or maybe too deep on the other side. Perhaps the underwater passageway were miles long...they'd die and no one would be able to get their remains. No one wanted to die such a frigid death.

Rebekah seemed to be getting exasperated as she glanced from face to face to face. When her gaze rested on Matthew, she seemed to be momentarily depressed. Perhaps he was just all talk too. Finally, she looked at Jack. As captain, he could order anyone to do it. He could order men to give up their lives. Which is why most captains seemed to have the weight of the world on their shoulders. All that responsibility for other people's lives can really weigh you down, unless you're pure evil and could care less about your crew of miscreants.

Jack sighed softly. He really didn't want to be forced to choose someone to do what he was unwilling to do himself. But someone had to check to see if there was treasure, or this venture would be a waste of time and manpower. "I'll go," he finally said, taking off his pistol and cutlass and handing them to Bootstrap. Slightly amused at the audible sigh of relief from everyone, Jack took off his overcoat as well. He wanted something to warm himself up in after this silly travel into the abyss.

The crew were watching him carefully as he stepped forward after taking off his large boots as well. Boots were often used by pirates as a way to carry their money, trinkets, and any valuables they happened to find interesting. Of course, Jack didn't use that odd tradition-that was why he had an overcoat. He'd had pockets put into his overcoat for that very reason. Of course, he'd gotten the overcoat years ago, and it was starting to show its wear. Perhaps with some of the gold he could get a new overcoat...

Jack's mind went instantly blank as his big toe touched the water. He'd never been in anything as cold in his life. Well, that was probably an exaggeration. But since the rest of the cave was a fairly pleasant 60 degrees Fahrenheit, the water, at about 35 degrees, was quite cold indeed. This was going to take a lot of self control.

* * *

**Misty**: Sounds like fun! I'm glad that I could keep you from learning useless information in the evil institute we call school. And thank you for the trophy! It'll look really cool on my empty trophy shelf...  
**Daisy**: I'm attempting to persuade my readers to leave reviews telling me not to leave cliffhangers...obviously, it isn't working. Anyway, this ish just a really long little bit of filler here. I've got to get to the one chapter where that one thing happens in that one place. But not yet.  
**sunkist3208**: Well, that's part of it. I'm also making fun of the Mary Sues that seem to be in a lot of the stories on fanfiction. And it shouldn't have seemed long...it was as long as my chapters normally are. It's because they're so pretty that they're booby traps.  
**Jack**: Can't you tell that I don't like spiders? They freak me out. Anyway, it should bother you. And you should be making connections. At least, I think you should be...anyway, I'll be leaving more and more clues about the whole prologue. I'll never explain it, though.


	17. Gold

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this, savvy?

AN (10/22): I'm dead. Just took two tests in my hardest classes. And I think I failed both of them. While this doesn't seem like a very big deal to the average person, I happen to be in the running for valedictorian at my school. Anyway, I've decided to take a break from thinking of school during my tech class, because I'm ahead of the rest of the class, amazingly. So, I'm at school typing this chapter, hoping that this will make sense even though my brain is fried.

AN (10/25): Sorry I didn't update yesterday. I realized I had a Calculus final to do...and a whole bunch of other things.

Chapter 16: Gold

Once Jack was almost completely submerged in the dark water, he realized just how much self control this was going to take. It felt like there were millions of small pins pricking every inch of his skin as he struggled to breathe in the frigid water. Jack hated this feeling of intense cold. Mostly because it brought back murky memories he'd rather not remember. As he struggled to get used to the water, one of those murky memories came back to him.

"_Is he alrigh'?" a worried female voice asked somewhere near Jacob's head. He recognized that voice...it was something he wanted to hear all the time. But who was it? And why did he feel like something was trying to keep him from breathing? It was almost like there was some invisible animal sitting inside his lungs._

"_I think so," a gruff voice replied as a hand pressed down on Jacob's small chest. "His color isn' as blue, an' 'is heart is beatin' stronger."_

"_Thank goodness," the female voice said. "I was worried tha' I'd lost 'im. Blasted mite doesn' know wha's good for 'im. I din' think 'ed follow me in'o the water." She seemed both relieved and frustrated. Clearly she cared for Jacob._

_Smaller hands gently touched Jacob's wet cheek. It felt very good to the child of no more than seven. He felt safe suddenly; even though the unfamiliar man's large hands were still on his chest. Who was the man? And who was the woman? He'd certainly heard the woman's voice before...but where? He groaned softly as the pain from hitting his head on a hidden cluster of rocks under the briny sea hit him as strongly as it had the first time._

"_I think 'e migh' be wakin' up," the male voice announced, tinged with the slightest bit of worry. Why was the man afraid of Jacob? "I'd probably bes' go, Sandra." His voice now seemed full of regret and...passion. Of course, the seven year old couldn't tell regret from passion, so it all sounded the same to him._

_Sandra? Who was Sandra? Some vague character from the stories his mother told him. His mother! That's who the woman was...she had the same voice. But what was she doing with this strange man? And why was he calling her Sandra? Jacob desperately wanted to open his eyes and see, but could not. He was now aware that he was still wet and starting to get very cold._

"_Aye," Jacob's mother replied with a slight sigh. "It wouldn' be good if 'e accidentally tole the ogre abou' ye." She seemed to be joking, but Jacob could tell that she was sad. Who was this ogre? Jacob certainly didn't remember him from any of the stories his mother enjoyed telling him before bed._

"_I'll be back, luv," the man said softly. Jacob could faintly hear something that sounded suspiciously like wet clothes rustling and, worst of all, kissing. If he'd been able to move, Jacob probably would've stuck his tongue out. Yet his mind and body didn't seem to be connected anymore. What had happened? Why did his head hurt so much? And how was it so cold in the Caribbean?_

Jack regained control of his meandering mind a moment later as Matthew prodded his shoulder. What was he doing? He couldn't change his past...nor did the incident really have anything to do with what he was doing now. So what if his mother had slept around? Surely Richard hadn't been any sort of man towards her. Thinking like this made Jack shudder and shiver all the more violently.

Yet...something about the man's voice seemed very familiar. He knew that it wasn't...well, he didn't want to think about it. She would have had her reasons. He certainly didn't want to know her reasons for doing such a thing. Best to shove it back into the recesses of his mind. But why did he remember himself as Jacob, rather than by his new name? Had he truly killed off the part of him known as Jacob by jumping off that cliff all those years ago? Or was the little boy who loved his mother still inside of him? Jack hated questions he couldn't answer. Besides, this was not the time to think about his past. Shoving the whole recollection to the back of his mind, Jack took a deep breath. Slowly submersing himself in the water, Jack started edging down the small and deep puddle. Unfortunately, he had no idea where he was going, and the rock surrounding the water didn't widen. If anything, it got narrower. He'd have to try again.

A few moments later, he came back up for breath. "I'm turned the wrong way," he said as an explanation as his crew's shoulders drooped at the sight of him. He hadn't been gone long enough to find any glittering prizes. The crew's shoulders returned to their excited level as Jack climbed out of the small, narrow puddle, took a breath, and went in head first. What had he been thinking, climbing in the other way? Obviously he wouldn't have been able to swim in to some unknown area turned the wrong way. Where was his mind lately?

Once underwater again, Jack slowly opened his eyes. Of course, he couldn't see anything, due to the lack of fire under the freezing water and the close confines of the walls of stone next to him. His eyeballs soon felt like they would shatter as he kicked himself further into the tube. But he pressed on, pulling himself forward with conveniently placed rocks. He needed to hurry. Most of the crew wouldn't be able to hold their breath this long under water. If he found treasure on the other side, he'd definitely need their help to get it out.

It seemed an eternity later when Jack finally pulled himself out of the rough tube. Once out of the confining space, he almost felt like taking a reassuring breath. That definitely wouldn't work well under the water. So, he kicked off the bottom of the frigid pool of water and stroked furiously until he reached the top. It wasn't too deep...nor was it too shallow. As his lungs burst open, gasping for air, Jack realized how painful it is to breathe in cold air once again. It almost felt like little barbs of ice were forming inside his lungs.

After getting used to the whole idea of breathing again, Jack rubbed at his marble eyes to get them to focus properly again. It wasn't quite as dark in here as it had been in the small pipe. There was apparently a wall of this particular cavern next to the mountainside, for there seemed to be a wall directly in front of Jack glowing a pale yellow color. When he'd gotten used to the dark, it was more than ample for seeing the land directly in front of him. All he had to do now was swim. Not a very hard task, of course, but one that required energy. This gold better be worth it. Jack quickly swam to a part where he could stand, pushing himself up with all his might as his torso was again subject to gravity. Soon he reached a place where the frigid water lapped at his ankles.

Jack stepped up onto the rocky shore, sitting down for a moment next to a rock shaped like a pear, heaving to get warm air into his tired lungs. Amazing how much swimming in frigid water will take out of you. When he'd finally regained the use of his lungs, Jack slowly stood and looked around. Now he could see small sparkles littering the floor. Was this all gold?

Jack walked towards the nearest sparkle; a similar one in his greedy brown eyes as he realized what it was that had sparkled; a fairly decently sized polished emerald. He reached over and put it in his faintly wet hands. The heavy gem was cool to the touch, even though Jack was freezing. If this were just lying around on the rocks...imagine what else there was! Smiling, Jack slipped the emerald into his pocket. If only there were a better way to let the crew follow him than through that wet tunnel. It'd be much too hard to get a lot of swag out through that route. They could basically only carry what their pockets and boots could hold. Not a very good way to move swag...and Jack doubted that Butler would've made his men do the same thing to bring it in here. There had to be another entrance...

* * *

It took nearly an hour for Jack to find the other way into the cavern. That was mostly because he was searching for it in relative darkness. His crew probably thought he'd either died or had gotten stuck on this side, for no one else tried swimming in. When he'd finally found the small outcropping of rocks that indicated a way out, Jack had nearly yelled for joy. But that had seemed too odd, even when he was by himself. So, he'd merely stepped into the outcropping arranged a particular way that almost didn't seem like an exit. Caves are notorious for having hidden passageways. This particular passageway sloped up and then down and then up again before gently leading down to the pathway that had lead to the puddle. The hole was certainly hard to miss. No wonder they hadn't seen it before, even though they'd all walked within meters of it.

Jack crawled out of the secret passageway, silently walking to where his crew stood staring at the water. They seemed to be at a loss as to what to do, for no one said anything for nearly a minute as Jack stood there. "Don' ye think someone should jump in there after him?" Jack asked softly, amused as all heads turned towards him in astonishment. Rebekah particularly seemed surprised. "I mean, 'e could need some 'elp." He blinked a few times, still trying to adjust to the light of the torch in Matthew's hands. He'd just been in a very dark cavern. Apparently everyone else's torch had gone out. Or they'd decided it was best to conserve what light they would eventually have and only have one torch lit. Jack hoped it was the second choice, for it would not be fun to navigate out of a cave without light.

"Cap'n!" Skip proclaimed, a grin on his face as he turned to face Jack. "We were startin' t' worry abou' ye." The rest of the crew chuckled nervously. Did he really mean that? And how in the blazes had he appeared behind them?

"Startin'?" Jack asked mockingly. He grinned and bowed slightly. "Gentlemen, lady, please follow me t' Butler's treasure." Without further explanation, he pivoted around on one foot and walked back to the small hole he'd appeared from a few moments earlier.

When the crew noticed the hole, they seemed to be relieved as they rushed forward, trying to be the first one to enter. Jack wasn't mystical, like many of the rumors around him stated. He'd just been clever enough to find a dry way out. Jack finally ended the bickering, sending Matthew in first with his torch, followed by Rebekah and the map. The rest of the crew filed in, leaving Bootstrap and Jack alone in the dark for a moment.

"Is there anythin' in there?" Bootstrap asked softly, staring at Jack intently. This almost seemed like old times. If only he could forget about the whole Meagan thing. The taller man seemed genuinely interested now. The hour of reflection he'd had was ample to get him interested in gold. Gold was one of the few things all pirates could agree on.

"Aye," Jack replied. "There is. A lo'. I found nearly fifteen gems in the dark wivout lookin' for 'em. Bu' we need t' get in there quick, before chaos breaks out when the men see all the swag." He smiled slightly, wishing for a moment that the Meagan incident hadn't happened either. But it had. And he'd been betrayed by his best friend, who was still too much of a coward to admit it. Life never works out how it should.

Bootstrap stepped into the hole and started climbing, followed by Jack. In about ten minutes, everyone was inside the large cavern that held Butler's gold. Jack had been right-there was a lot of swag here. Now that they had torches, the whole cavern seemed to be glittering, even the water Jack had entered in from. Apparently, half of the "rocks" he'd been stepping on were small gold coins.

"Holy Mot'er o' pearl," Stout Sam muttered as he picked up a golden necklace with a large pearl at the end. "We've 'it the mother load." His crew mates agreed as they began greedily stuffing all manner of shiny trinkets into their clothes. Never mind that it was uncomfortable. Or that they'd lost several good souls getting here. All that mattered was the gold.

Jack chuckled and nodded, glancing around as his crew started stuffing sacks they'd wisely brought along. Of course, he'd been too stupid to plan for what they'd do after finding the gold. At least someone had been thinking. Sighing, he leaned against the pear shaped rock again, trying not to shiver as he watched his crew work. It was cold in here, for the water helped keep the temperature as low as it could go.

* * *

An hour passed in the blink of an eye to most of Jack's crew. They were enjoying themselves thoroughly, deciding what was good enough to take and what would be left behind for retrieval at some later date. Rebekah and Matthew certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves as Matthew adorned Rebekah in all sorts of jewelry. Jack wondered if he should tell the now stunning girl that Matthew was married with two daughters, for he still had a twinge of jealousy whenever he looked at them. How could someone spend the night with Jack and not like him the next day? It was a spear in Jack's ego. Perhaps all the women in his life had always been lying...or there was something wrong with Rebekah. Jack sincerely hoped that something was just wrong with Rebekah. Surely his reputation as a ladies' man was correct.

It took them about six hours to completely clean out the gold and precious stones from the cave. After that had been accomplished, they'd all carried the gold to the entrance of the cave. It was raining outside. Rather than get everybody sick from exertion and rain, Jack ordered that the crew cease for the night. They would spend time inside the cave, celebrating their luck. The gods of the sea must've been smiling favorably down at the crew of the _Black Pearl_ today, for nothing seemed to be going wrong. The fact that their food stores were nearly depleted did not matter. They'd found what they wanted. More than they'd expected. And everybody on the _Pearl_ was now rich.

* * *

**endoreovende**: You seriously made my day by leaving that review. Thanks. I'd just forgotten that, I suppose. I promise to not give up. I've got to finish this story, anyway. Have some great plans for future chapters...  
**Daisy**: Thanks for the new hat! Tis spiffy! Especially since it has all their autographs. I'll give you the hat that Johnny Depp wore in Secret Window with his autograph for even bothering to leave a review. And for starting your own fanfic. They're great tools for getting your mind off bad things. Plus, it gives you something to think about in boring classes. I wish I could make Curry come back, but I can't. So, all I can say is that you just have to keep going. No matter how hard it gets, pick yourself back up.  
**Aliana Archer**: Sorry for all the recent cliffhangers. Just an attempt to keep the story flowing the correct way. This whole thing is just me stalling until I get to the chapters that really matter. But you didn't hear me say that...and thanks for the encouragement. And the spiders...well, I don't like spiders either. They scare me. And Jack, apparently.  
**Misty**: I know. Poor Jack and his bruised ego...and the prologue is making sense? It isn't supposed to yet...or is it? And I'm sorry I turned you into an insomniac, Misty. I'm just evil.  
**Jack**: Well, I ran into my self-imposed limit. Which is why I stopped where I did. And Rebekah's supposed to be annoying. She's one of those characters you love to hate, I guess. I'm glad you're hating the suspense. Means I'm doing my job right.  
**sunkist3208**: I'm sorry it was a bit confusing. I was a bit confusing when I was typing it up. Couldn't think straight. Not that I ever do. Anyway, thanks for leaving a review! You were number one...and I'll give you something on Neopets if you can guess who the guy ish in the flashback...


	18. Rain

Disclaimer: Once again, I'm sorry to announce that I don't own any of these characters. Not really even the ones from my imagination, because they belong to my split personality known as Joan. 

AN (10/28): Wow. Today was...weird. My dad got into a car crash on his way to work. Slammed into a dump truck. Thankfully, he's okay. Don't really know why I'm telling all of you this, but I'm too lazy to hit the backspace.  
Before I get on with writing, I just want to tell all of you to read Daisy's fanfic that she just started. Amazing beginning, full of lots of promise and what have you. Her name, on fanfic, is orcachick2005.

Chapter 17: Rain

When the party woke up the next morning, it was still raining. Clouds were crying tears larger than a baby's fist as the wind rocked the trees back and forth in the gale force winds. Not even the foul weather could deter the jubilant mood of the party, however. They'd actually found gold! What an amazing thing, to be able to follow a map and find something after they'd reached the end. Why would someone bury their treasure, anyway? The whole idea of pirates hiding their gold seemed illogical, but Butler had apparently found it a good idea. Jack doubted even a quarter of the maps out there actually lead the follower to gold.

After eating a quick breakfast of the diminishing hard tack Skip carried around on his back, Jack wandered to the entrance of the cave. He stood there as his men talked and gossiped and enjoyed themselves, staring at the rain. He didn't particularly feel good about this expedition suddenly. Either that, or he had a serious case of indigestion.

Matthew seemed particularly interested in leaving. "We should go, Cap'n," he said nearly fifteen times as Jack stared out at the rain. As he approached again, he changed what he wanted to say in order to get Jack do do more than merely blink at him. "We need t' go, Cap'n."

Jack blinked and turned to face the man a few years older than him. "Why?" was all he said loud enough to be heard over the rain as his left hand played with the gems inside his effects. The rain and wind seemed to be so cold out there. What was the point of leaving the nice dry cave?

"Barbossa will be worried abou' us," Matthew said with a slight shrug. "Migh' think tha' we've all died." He seemed quite nervous for some reason. Perhaps it was because of the looks that Stout Sam was giving him as the rest of the party quieted down.

Jack sighed inwardly. It was probably true. But Jack didn't want to go out in the storm. All of the things that creepy voice had said inside of that secret room had come true, and the voice had mentioned something about the rain. "Yer probably righ'," he admitted, mad at himself as he did so. Did he really believe that voice? Perhaps it was all just coincidence. Glancing at his crew, he said loudly, "Well, then, le's go. I wan' four men for each sack o' treasure. Switch off every half hour so tha' we don' 'ave t' wait for anyone. And stay away from the rectangles."

Jack's crew had been waiting for this. They all leaped forward like anxious racehorses and gathered up the swag they'd been staring at and talking about since they'd awoken. The air was almost electric inside the cave, even though lightning couldn't strike inside of it. Even Rebekah helped put the coins back into the sacks, though she seemed a bit miffed by how dirty her dress was. In a few minutes, the party was ready to brave the storm. Matthew stepped out first as Jack watched anxiously at the mouth of the cave.

For a few tense moments, Matthew didn't move at all. Jack was afraid that he'd lost Bootstrap's brother-in-law somehow. Maybe he'd start melting. But nothing happened and he turned back, waving the others out. "The rain isn' too bad," he said as a wind blew his torch out. "Jus' a little wet." Matthew liked to state the obvious from time to time, but it gave the others reassurance. They all stepped out into the rain. Jack and Bootstrap were the last to leave, mostly because Bootstrap's limp was much worse today. Jack helped his friend down the mountainside without saying anything, though. How could that mysterious voice have been wrong about the rain? What was it that he'd said?

When they reached the foot of the mountain, Bootstrap smiled and touched Jack's shoulder. "Thanks," he murmured. "I wouldn' 'ave been able t' make it down the mountain wivout help."

Jack nodded and shrugged, feeling a bit stupid as he stared at Bootstrap's muddy face. "The rain will not make everything clean, avoid it at all costs," he said softly. Oh. So that's what the voice had warned him about. Jack hated it when he suddenly blurted out what he'd been thinking about.

Bootstrap gave him an odd look. "I really don' see 'ow we can avoid the rain, Jack. We're already soaked." Which was true. Everyone in the party was soaked to the bone, almost. The rain was pounding at their skin, saturating them with everything the heavens would let come down.

Jack chuckled. "Sorry 'bou' tha'. Random nonsense. Ye know I get a bi' odd if I don' 'ave enough rum." Weak excuse, but Jack didn't really want to talk right now. What had the voice meant? Maybe nothing.

Bootstrap chuckled as well. "Ye know, Jack, tha' doesn' even make sense. Ye had rum for dinner las' night. Perhaps this job is jus' gettin' t' ye." He stared at Jack poignantly as he stepped forward.

"So, ye think I can't handle bein' a captain?" Jack asked a bit angrily as he walked forward. Why was Bootstrap revealing the truth now? The system of avoidance had been quite satisfactory. Made it so that they didn't yell like some quarrelling couple in front of the rest of the crew. Thankfully, they were far enough behind the rest because of Bootstrap's bad leg that the crew couldn't make out what they were saying.

Bootstrap frowned. "Not really, no. I think tha' Calico Jack should've waited a few years, is all. Or gone for someone wiv more experience." It was almost scary how honest he was being. Bootstrap was never this serious or honest. He liked to avoid uncomfortable social situations if at all possible.

"Ah, so tha's why ye betrayed me? Thought it would make me see tha' I'm no' ready t' be a captain, eh?" Jack asked sarcastically, shivering in the rain as they walked forward. He could tell that others in his crew were getting into fights as well.

"No. You are such a self-centered git, ye know tha', Jack? I was tryin' t' do ye a favor." Bootstrap muttered a few curses under his breath as he glanced away from Jack. He seemed to want to leave the man's presence forever.

"A favor?" Jack asked, straightening to be a more intimidating height. "How is showin' the woman I loved somethin' she shouldn' 'ave ever had t' see a favor?" His voice was bordering on sardonic right now. How Jack wished he was taller than Bootstrap. If he were just taller, he could scare the man back into submission. He didn't really want to hear this.

"Jack, ye li'le git, don' ye see tha' it wouldn' 'ave worked? The men 'ad a hard enough time callin' ye captain, an' then ye got yerself ruddy involved wiv a minister's daughter? She din' 'e'n bloody know ye were a sailor, much less a pirate! D' ye really think she would've loved ye if ye 'ad told her what you really were? I saved ye heartache." Bootstrap's voice seemed to be honest, rather than apologetic. He was just explaining his reasoning, after all. No sense in apologizing for doing what he'd felt was the right thing to do.

"You gave me heartache!" Jack shouted in response. "I could've made it work," he insisted. "I could've made it ruddy work." Sensing that he was near an emotional breakdown, Jack stormed away from Bootstrap, his mood matching that of the thundercloud above. He made it to the front of the line and calmed himself. At least Bootstrap had admitted to it, now. Maybe they'd be able to patch things up. Probably not.

"Are you all right?" Rebekah asked softly as she walked along, trying not to get her skirts filthy in the dark mud staining the ground like blood. Behind her was Matthew and the rest of the crew.

"I'm fine," Jack almost growled in response. "Don't concern yourself about me." He really wasn't fine. That statement from the voice was really starting to bother him. What if the rain had something to do with the brash honesty going on right now?

"You don't look fine to me," Rebekah responded. "I haven't seen you this upset before." She seemed genuinely worried about him. Jack wondered why. Ever since their time in the cave, she'd been avoiding him like a leper.

"You obviously haven't done anything t' really upset me," Jack responded quickly, wishing she'd just leave him alone. "Why don' ye jus' go an' talk t' Matthew, then? I know tha' ye like 'im more'n me. No sense in pretendin'."

Rebekah lowered her eyes slightly. "I don't like him more than you, Jack. Honest, I don't. You are something special, Jack. I just got involved with some things I should've avoided." She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn't as she glanced back towards Matthew and slowed her step so she could walk next to him.

Jack sighed to himself. Why were things so complicated? And if the rain was making everyone honest, why couldn't she say what she wanted to say? Maybe women were able to lie even under the influence of magic rain. Not that Jack really believed it was magic rain. For all he knew, he was completely imagining the whole thing because of what the mysterious voice had said in that room in Portobello. Hadn't that been a dream, anyway? Jack had made his mind so hazy afterwards that he wasn't entirely sure.

* * *

It stopped raining a few hours later, much to Jack's relief. Things between himself and Bootstrap had settled down a bit, only because they were avoiding each other. The return to the shore went by a lot faster than one would've expected, but return journeys always seem to take less time. "All hands t' the skiff," Jack said loudly as they stepped onto the beach. His orders were complied by everyone but Matthew and Rebekah. 

"No," Matthew said boldly, staring directly into Jack's brown eyes. "I don't think I want t' go back t' the _Pearl_." Contempt lined his voice like rabbit fur in expensive boots.

"You'd rather stay 'ere, on this island, wiv only poisonous berries t' keep ye company?" Jack asked lightly, hoping this wouldn't turn out bad. He certainly hadn't expected Matthew to act in such a way.

"Actually, I was thinking that I'd stay on this island until me ship came, wiv all me treasure," came the quick reply. Matthew pulled out his pistol and aimed it directly at Jack's head.

"It isn' yer treasure," Jack responded, hoping he sounded intimidating enough. "Tis all of our treasure." Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw some of his crew standing and taking the gold out of the small boat. Apparently they worked for Matthew, for they dropped the sacks near Matthew's feet and pulled out their own guns, aiming them at Jack and the rest of the crew.

"I beg t' differ, cap'n." The derision in Matthew's voice was almost edible on the soft breeze that smelled of mud and rain. "I sugges' ye get in'o yer ship and sail away."

"Wait a moment," Jack protested, glancing at the bags near Matthew's feet. "Shouldn' I get a' least one bag? All I wanted t' do wiv it was pay the crew."

"I don't think so, cap'n," Matthew responded. "You din' do enough t' deserve the treasure." This might've seemed incredibly funny if Matthew didn't look so serious.

"I din' do enough?" Jack asked incredulously, slowly moving his hand towards his pistol. Perhaps if he aimed it at Rebekah...

"Aye, ye din' do enough," Matthew replied with a laugh. The half of the crew that supported him laughed as well, egged on by their leader. He cocked the gun, tilting it towards the away boat. "I sugges' ye leave."

"I did more'n me share of getting the treasure," Jack protested. "Ye wouldn' 'ave found Rebekah if I 'adn't deciphered the map." Glaring at Matthew, Jack pulled his pistol out and aimed it at Rebekah's head. He would shoot, if necessary. Jack needed the gold so he could pay Ragetti for the eye he'd lost.

Matthew glared at Jack for a moment. It was clear that he had feelings for Rebekah. Turning to an ugly man with a mole the size of a doubloon by the name of Rupert, he consulted for a moment. Without turning back to Jack, he said, "You can 'ave 'alf the treasure as long as ye don' hurt the girl."

Jack nodded, though he truthfully felt this was too easy. "Fair enough. Why don' your men pu' 'alf the gold back in'o me boat, an' then we'll leave? Your ship will be along soon, I'm sure." Jack grinned, glancing out at the water. All he could see right now was one blob, which was probably the _Black Pearl_. Thank goodness he'd left half of his crew behind with Barbossa, so that they wouldn't have the guts to mutiny like this quarter of his crew did. Was Jack really all that bad of a captain?

"Agreed," Matthew responded, turning back to Jack with a malicious look in his eyes. He clearly had something up his sleeve...but Jack had no idea what. Matthew nodded towards Rupert and half of the sacks were put back into the boat as Jack stood with the gun aimed directly at Rebekah's head. He was a fair shot, so his threat had some weight to it. Once the gold was in the boat, Matthew grinned slightly at Jack. "G'bye," he said almost cheerfully, watching as Jack cautiously pushed the boat out to sea with the help of Skip.

Jack hated this...he had his back turned to the man. But there was no other way for them to escape. Before long, Matthew would realize that Jack couldn't shoot Rebekah while pushing, and he'd be a dead man. Yet...the shot never came. Perhaps Matthew thought there'd be another way to kill the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Or perhaps the blob out in the water Jack had seen wasn't the _Pearl_ at all. Jack wasn't entirely sure. What if Barbossa was dead? What if the other ship blew their small craft out of the water? Jack suddenly felt incredibly unsure of himself, a feeling that he hated above all others.

* * *

**sunkist3208**: Well, the emerald was a bit of a clue, I suppose. It was originally a ruby, and then I decided that an emerald would fit better...don't really know why. I just do what the voices tell me to do. And I don't know why Rebekah would prefer Matthew...maybe he threatened her or something...we'll maybe find out...and that's cool, that she seemed interested. Of course, since I have no idea what her name really is on fanfiction, I probably won't tell her to look at it. And it would've been quite confusing, just seeing last chapter...  
**Daisy**: Whoot! A shriner hat! I've always wanted one, since that one episode of the Simpsons...anyway, thanks for leaving me a review. They're really like little presents...or something. And she obviously knows more than I made it seem, eh? I decided against the her being completely evil thing...betcha didn't see Matthew the way he really is, though. I did leave clues about this whole scene...  
**Jack**: It was supposed to put images in your mind, poppet. The whole flash back thing was supposed to make you think. You see, I thought of it in gym, while we were meditating and I was cold...anyway, tis rather crazy. But important. Not just random nonsense. And I hope that you kinda like this cliffhanger-y end for this chapter...the first part of the chapter was rather random. But it needed to be done. Thanks for your support and reviews!


	19. Cabin

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be using most of these characters. 

AN (11/8): Sorry for the holdup. I was sick on Saturday and Sunday, and didn't have as much time as I thought I would've to write. I can't quite type in my sleep...

Chapter 18: Cabin

Jack's heart jumped to his throat a few times as the longboat neared the dark boat bobbing in the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean off the shores of that accursed island. He wasn't sure if it was the _Black Pearl_ or some alien vessel until he remembered the telescope hiding under his seat at the stern. Feeling a bit like an anxious parent, Jack stood slowly up and carefully lifted the wooden lid to the seat he'd been sitting on. Smiling as the gold glint caught his gaze, Jack gently pulled the delicate instrument out and put it to his left eye. It was the _Pearl_. As soon as Jack was able to confirm that, he felt as though things might turn out all right. So what if a quarter of his crew had mutinied? They were now stuck on that island. In a few years, the _Pearl_ could always return and take the gold that Matthew had greedily kept for himself. They'd surely be dead by then. Besides, Jack was fairly certain that they'd ended up with the sacks containing the most valuable swag. It was probably better to leave the back-stabbing leech behind with his consort.

Jack's slightly good mood was dashed again as the jaunty craft neared the _Pearl_. Apparently there'd been a bit of a fight, for his precious _Pearl_ had holes in her sides and sails. It'd be quite a job for them to nurse her back to a port. None of the crew with him said anything. They seemed afraid that he'd explode or something. Bootstrap in particular looked uneasy as the skiff was raised back onto the _Pearl_ and they all stepped out. Perhaps he thought he was responsible for what had happened.

Actually, Jack had put the whole ordeal behind him, as he commonly did with problems. No sense in worrying about a mutinous "friend" when his mistress was in danger. Jack liked to think of the _Pearl_ as his mistress and the sea his wife, for he'd be able to live if the _Pearl_ was gone but wouldn't be able to live without the sea. As he stepped onto the deck, Jack noticed that some more of his crew were missing, presumably dead from the fight that had taken place. He said nothing as Barbossa approached him with a slightly worried look on his grizzled and sweaty face, instead going over to the lee board side of the _Pearl_ and glancing at the water. The acrid taste of smoke violated his nostrils as he noticed a small sloop burning nearby. No match for the _Pearl_'s state of the art cannon. Apparently Matthew was stuck on that scab of the sea.

Jack smiled faintly at the burning ship, trying to ignore the bodies of men he could faintly make out if he concentrated hard enough. Matthew would get his reward for sowing discord on his ship. Pivoting around on his left foot, Jack looked at Barbossa. "Attacked, eh?" He was grateful he had someone competent to leave behind. If someone like Ragetti or Pintel had been in charge, Jack probably wouldn't have a ship any longer. As it was, the _Pearl_ was floating away from the burning vessel as fast as she could go.

"Aye." Barbossa smiled faintly, looking quite fatigued. "Abou' three hours ago. Nasty li'le bugger 'ad it comin'." He turned his serious gaze out to the flames dancing on the playful water. Any moment now the ship would explode.

"Good job." Jack was never one to give out compliments freely, and this one was very sincere. "Would've los' the _Pearl_ if it 'adn' been for ye, Hector." Feeling a bit stupid, Jack offered his hand to the older man.

"Jus' doin' me duty, Cap'n," Barbossa responded, grasping Jack's hand and shaking it. Something vaguely familiar about Barbossa's voice sent a shiver down Jack's spine. Where had he heard it before? What a silly question to ask yourself. Of course he'd heard Barbossa's voice before. Jack had been a pirate for nearly ten years now and Barbossa had been the first mate of the original crew he'd joined.

Shaking all that aside, Jack grinned and turned to the crew after releasing Barbossa's hand. "Well, then, gents, I sugges' tha' we divvy up the swag we 'ave." A hearty cheer erupted from the fatigued crew as Jack motioned for some of his men to take the booty to the galley, where it would be distributed fairly. Of course, not evenly, for those of higher positions were naturally entitled to a higher cut, but pirates still were very generous in spreading the wealth around the crew, unless the captain happened to be a greedy man who refused to share. Jack definitely wasn't greedy, though he was partially driven by greed. There is a fine line between being greedy and doing things for the love of money. Jack could care less about gold:as long as he had food to eat and a ship to command (for he'd realized for one horrible moment that he might actually lose his ship) he was content.

* * *

It took no time at all to divide up the gold and Jack gave Ragetti the promised amount for losing his eye. The haggard man was finally getting used to only seeing out of one eye, for he wasn't running into things nearly as often due to his bad depth perception. It had been both funny and sad to see Ragetti get used to his new vision, and Jack had often had to glare at his men who seemed to be laughing at the poor individual, for Ragetti didn't take it too well at first. That had been until Pintel had cajoled that out of the man. Pintel, at first, had been quite sympathetic to Ragetti until Ragetti tried to milk him of all his best intentions in Portobello. Their initial argument seemed to have disappeared while Jack was on the island, though, for they were talking together of how they planned to spend their cut of the money. 

Once it was divided up, Jack meandered his way to his cabin, humming some old sailing tune he'd once heard his mother sing. The chords of that mournful tale died slowly as he opened his cabin door and stepped in. Pleasant wafts hit his nostrils as he shut the door behind him and took off his overcoat, gently draping it over the side of a rather used green armchair. He treated it with almost a reverence one would expect from the pious inside of a cathedral. This was really quite surprising for Jack's cabin happened to be a sordid mess of papers, maps, trinkets, and books strewn across his red bedspread and the dark floor of the ship itself. A scratched up oak desk in the corner was over-flowing with bits of parchment. Jack couldn't help but feel safe in here-this was the only room in the ship that smelled completely like himself. Amazing how attached people get to specific scents. Its probably why something foreign seems so bad.

"Glad tha's over," Jack commented to himself in a small, well-secured mirror on top of his absolutely dilapidated dresser. Perhaps the captain should spend some of his hard-earned swag on some new furniture for his cabin. Then again, Jack didn't spend much time in here, unless he needed to think or sleep. He spent as much time outside as possible. "Ye look horrible." Jack didn't know why so many people thought it strange if people talked to themselves. You're always your worst critic, as they say, and it is reasonable to conclude from that that you, in fact, will be the most honest person with yourself. Besides, its easier to say what you want to say than think it out, for it seems more natural.

"Thanks," Jack replied, grinning slightly. He sighed and glanced around his cabin with a faint frown. What would Calico Jack say if he could see this mess? Well, probably nothing. But what would his mother say? Well, she'd probably say something about his father getting upset over this sort of behavior. And that would result in a whipping. Maybe that was why Jack kept it comfortably dirty-to defy his over-repressive father.

Shaking his head slightly, Jack looked away from the mirror. No sense in spending all of his time absorbed in his own reflection. That brought nothing but shame, for when Jack looked into the mirror, he saw himself as a cheating, lying, unfaithful, unintelligent, and dastardly character who shouldn't be allowed the luxury to do more than swab the decks. Of course, that's not a very good self-image, and it certainly didn't seem to fit the illustrious pirate, but he was very good at concealing what he actually felt. Perhaps someday he would become like Calico Jack-confident in everything he did, but that day was not today. Jack's manhood had just been threatened. He'd almost lost the thing most important to him. And Jack really didn't think he'd be able to handle another blow like that. He'd had a fairly rough twenty-six years aboard this place man called earth. And he'd probably explode if something else went wrong. Matthew's treachery made him see that now.

It is quite remarkable that Jack was feeling as well as he was feeling right now. Many men would become blubbering fools in the quiet sanctity of their cabin after an ordeal like a mutiny. Of course, none would ever admit to such "feminine" behavior, but most would probably resort to it. Instead, Jack grabbed a leather-bound book out of his bookshelf and flopped down on his bed, determined to at least finish it before his next shift. Jack is a very hard person to deter when he sets his mind on something.

* * *

Jack did manage to finish the book before his next shift. In fact, he had an hour or so of down time. Generally he'd be sleeping right now, but Jack wanted to get as far away from that island as possible, and thoughts of sleep seemed to be almost sacrilegious. Nothing good had ever happened when a paranoid person fell asleep without intending to. 

Sighing, Jack closed the fairly thick book, faintly amused at the squat candle slowly melting itself into oblivion. It almost appeared to be a person right now. "What now?" Jack asked himself with a sigh, watching with his dark brown eyes as the flame flickered and played with the expulsion of air from his mouth. "I don' particularly wan' t' start all of them over again."

He lay his head down on his hands, wishing there were some way he could forget that awful smirk on Matthew's face. He really hadn't expected such a thing from Bootstrap's brother-in-law. Fortunately, it did push back the whole conversation about concealing things that Jack needed to have with his oldest friend. That rain earlier today (or was it yesterday?) had definitely put a damper on things, rubbing off the gilded gold flakes on Jack and Bootstrap's friendship. Why hadn't the man been honest before? It'd been nearly a year and a half now. Wouldn't your best friend explain why he did something so hurtful it threw you into the gaping fangs of despair?

Apparently not. Sighing, Jack sat slumped over like that for a bit. What he needed was a distraction. But he honestly couldn't think of any good distractions. Wait a moment...what about that emerald? It'd been the only emerald in the entire pile of swag, oddly enough. Perhaps it would keep his mind from dwelling on those subjects that should be smothered, if at all possible.

Allowing a false grin to sweep his face, Jack sat up. He gracefully stood and pushed his chair in, waltzing towards the overcoat on his armchair. While pockets hadn't been invented yet, Jack had long ago realized that he needed somewhere to stow his stuff. So, he'd had a special order one day in a tailor shop run by women. And he now had pockets. They were much more convenient than shoes.

Sticking one of his tanned hands into his pocket, Jack retrieved the cold stone and a spare piece of paper that happened to be right next to it. Curious...Jack didn't remember picking up any paper. Generally, if he received a tidbit of written word, he'd toss it in his cabin (hence the mess) rather than put it on his person. Jack didn't like to admit to his crew that he could read. Those who were deemed "intellectuals" often ended up being keelhauled. Better to just throw things away and forget about them.

Slowly pulling the objects out, Jack looked at the emerald first. Sparkles were always music to pirates' ears, as it were. It was a very fine emerald-perfectly cut. And it reflected the candlelight superbly. Grinning, Jack placed it back into his pocket. He'd spend it on something...or would maybe get it put into a fine sword. The world was full of possibilities.

He frowned, however, as he unfolded the parchment. This was something that made no sense. Jack didn't like things that made no sense. Written on the paper with a faint smear of reddish brown material were the numbers 22 N and 76 W. What in the world did they mean? Obviously they were coordinates for something...but where in the world had the slip of paper come from? Clearly not from the cave, or it would have water damage. Had Matthew slipped it into his pocket or something? Maybe this was a trap.

Jack didn't really think it was a trap, however. Something in his very soul wouldn't let him think like that. Besides, the writing was incredibly familiar. So familiar, in fact, that Jack was positive he'd read it before. But when? Unfortunately, his years of abusing alcohol were starting to catch up with him, as it were. Connections didn't come as easily as they once had.

"Where've I seen it?" Jack said aloud as he folded the paper almost reverently back up and placed it in his desk. He started pacing. Maybe the connection would come to him this way. Probably not, but why not at least try?

Unfortunately, pacing didn't help. All it did was make Jack more frustrated. He knew whose handwriting it was. It was on the tip of his tongue, as it were. He just couldn't get it to come out. Sighing, he gave up the futile gesture of walking back and forth. Judging by the amount of light filtering into his sanctuary, he had to go out and take over from Bootstrap. What an awkward conversation...so awkward that Jack didn't really want to take over from the man. But it was his duty. Besides, he loved his _Pearl_ more than anything else, especially since he'd almost lost her.

* * *

**Alteng**: Tis all right. I'm just glad that you finally left a review. I was getting a bit worried...and when's your next chapter of our favorite inept pirates coming out? I'm very anxious...  
And I'm glad you enjoyed the berry scene. One of those disturbing things that likes to pop out of my mind...if you could see me in real life, you'd be amazed...  
**Aliana Archer**: Thank you for leaving another review! It's almost like easter each time I update...dunno where that simile came from, but I'm quite tired right now. Hope you liked this one. And that it wasn't too confusing. A tired author is kinda scary...  
**Guess who...**: Is it Santa? Am I getting a pony for Christmas? And I'll have to check her out. Sometime. Keep reminding me.  
**sunkist3208**: It wasn't both of them. Just Matthew. Evil little git. I guess I was just feeling particularly evil towards Jack that day, for I also had him be the villain in my other fic... Yes, your last guess was correct. Though, it will take me quite a while for that whole branch to be explained...tis just creepy, eh? And yay! I get me a pokeball! Does it have anything inside?  
**Laura**: Well, Matthew ish a bad guy. Decided to mutiny for treasure. Fortunately, he gets what he deserves. And go Halloween Candy! Evil Bootstrap, betraying Jack like that... And thank you so much for catching up on your reviewing! It meant a lot to me!  
**Jack**: School? All right. We just started another term. But I have an independent study period. Gives me more free time at home. If I hadn't been sick...but I was, so, oh well. And I'm glad you didn't trust Matthew. I only left subtle clues about him. Purposefully, of course.  
**orcachick2005**: I'd never mutiny under Jack either. He's much too...well, hot. And handsome. And smart. And I love witches' hats! Since you were the first reviewer, you get a loverly picture of a giraffe. Don't ask me why.


	20. Letters

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be using these characters. 

AN (11/12): Well, I'm in the library at school, and I've finished my whole definition essay already for English. So, therefore, I'm writing this now since I have nothing better to do and no homework!   
AN (11/16): Sorry it took me so long...I got sick again. Antibiotics can be evil, if they kill off the good bacteria in your body...

Chapter 19: Letters

"Cap'n," a voice said gruffly, pulling Jack out of the contemplative mood he seemed to be in a lot lately. Most of the crew explained this away by how he seemed to have been affected by the mutiny of one of his close friends. Of course, that wasn't what had been bothering Jack for the past six months. In fact, he'd forgotten about the whole thing by the morning of the next day, though he felt a small twinge of guilt for having left Rebekah behind on that spit of land. It was just a small twinge, however, so he had been able to easily drive it to the back of his mind. There was no sense in worrying about someone who'd tried to humiliate you by chasing after another man who happened to be married. In fact, whenever Jack thought of that, he felt glad he'd left the girl behind on the island. Who cares if it meant almost certain death?

As previously stated, that wasn't what was bothering Jack. It was that note with the numbers on it. Obviously the note had some coordinates to some place in the Caribbean, because of the latitude and longitude. Yet, Jack had referenced it in a map a few days after receiving it, and it had been empty sea. There was nothing in the spot. Not even a hint of an island. Jack was half tempted to sail that way and see if there really was nothing there…but had abstained from it because he figured it would be a waste of his crew's time. Besides, he had another quarter of a crew to whip into shape. If he could just stop losing people to natural disasters and man-made emergencies, he'd be able to actually accomplish something as a pirate.

The location wasn't even what was bothering Jack. So what if he had a slip of paper stuffed into his pocket that he liked to take out and stare at that had nothing to do with any sort of treasure? He didn't want to solve the mystery, really, about the numbers on the paper. What was bothering him was the handwriting on the paper. Even though it was only six characters, Jack was certain he'd seen the handwriting before. But he couldn't remember where. And that was what bothered him. That was why he was having such a hard time paying attention to anything except the inside of his mind. He needed to solve whose handwriting it was before it drove him nuts.

"Cap'n?" the voice questioned abruptly, apparently getting a bit dismayed by Jack's slow reaction time. Light blue eyes were peering at Jack curiously as he pulled himself out of his thoughts again.

"Aye?" Jack seemed both chagrinned with his slow reaction time and amused with it. "Is there some sort of problem, Hector?" It still felt odd calling the occasional lecherous man anything informal. Jack doubted he'd ever get used to it, but it would just be too unusual to revert to calling him Barbossa now.

"We're approachin' Nassau, Cap'n," Barbossa replied with a slight shrug. "No problem. I jus' wan' ye t' reconsider the whole plan." Ah…so, that was what was bothering the experienced seaman.

"We've gone o'er this before, Hector," Jack said softly, his dark eyes full of boredom. "There's no sense in us makin' an unnecessary risk, ye see. No sense in us killin' innocents if we don' 'ave t'. I'm sure tha' it will work."

"Well, Cap'n, it is a rather brilliant plan," Barbossa acquiesced, stepping back as Jack stepped forward on the bridge. "There's no denyin' tha'. Bu' I think we should do it as we always do it. It's dreadfully risky t' storm a port this new way."

"Well, if we're afraid of risky situations, we'd probably bes' no' do anythin'," Jack responded. "Come on, mate, where's yer sense of adventure? Who said tha' ye 'ave t' storm a port wiv guns blarin'?" It was a reasonable question. Pirates and rules didn't mix at all.

"Well, no one," Barbossa remarked with a slight shrug. It was apparent that he still didn't agree with the plan, but he said nothing further on the matter. Clearly he wouldn't be able to change Jack's mind. But this was folly. The town wouldn't even know they were under attack if they followed Jack's plan. Barbossa liked following the established rules of warfare, as it were. Always best to give those you were looting an idea that you were looting them. What if it turned out like the last time they'd attempted to storm Nassau? The whole crew had nearly ended up dead that time. Of course, that had been under the infamous Calico Jack...but much of the crew wondered how good a pirate Jack really was. The rumors surrounding him were almost too good to be true.

* * *

Jack hated Nassau with a passion. Why? Well, he'd finally faced the man who'd killed his mother and married his sister in Nassau, and had been too afraid to do anything about it. What a disgrace he'd been...not even bothering to seek revenge. Surely his sister would be too far attached to Nathaniel Dennis now for Jack to kill him. Yet, he couldn't say that Commodore Dennis wasn't the target of this mission. 

The plan was so simple it was scary. They'd moor the _Black Pearl_ in the harbor like any other ship. Then the whole crew would disperse for a day and meet up near the governor's home in groups of two or three. Jack knew of an old warehouse where they could meet and plan their attack. He just wanted to take the governor hostage...and maybe accidentally kill his brother-in-law in the process. Once the governor was safely captive, he'd order his men to capture other key officials..and they'd rob the treasury. Of course, this would all be done at night, for then they'd be assured that the governor was at home. He was a man of habit. How did Jack know this? Well, from the letters he'd found from his sister a few weeks ago when he'd actually visited the general store in Tortuga.

The letters had really been quite a surprise to Jack. He'd assumed that Jodi had merely forgotten of him over the years. When he'd gone inside the general store, the shop owner had glared at him and contemptuously asked him for his name. After Jack replied, he'd received about a hundred letters from Jodi. He probably would've just thrown them away, if it hadn't been for the fact that he was incredibly bored that day.

After purchasing the new trousers in the general store (for all the tailors had been closed), Jack had wandered back to the _Pearl_ to take a look at his "treasure" of letters. He'd arranged them all by date and had started with the oldest first, rather amused by several anecdotes in the first letter. It'd given him such a good feeling to hear from her (and to picture her face) that he'd continued reading.

What he'd learned had shocked him. First, he was an uncle a few times. Well, that hadn't been that shocking, especially since the last time he'd seen his sister she'd been expecting a baby. The feeling of yearning to see his nephews had shocked him. Of course he wouldn't act on that...or would he? He'd been shocked the most to learn that Jodi was being beaten by Nathaniel. Of course, she hadn't come right out and said that...but Jack could tell based on the very vague hints in a few of the latest letters. Apparently his brother-in-law had learned of the existence of Jack Sparrow and had made the connection that Jack was the same person he'd once invited to his home for dinner that had used his uniform to break Calico Jack out of prison. Jack wasn't sure how Nathaniel had made the connection, but then again, he didn't really realize how intelligent his brother-in-law was. The old codger was almost as good as reformed criminals at catching other criminals. He'd been able to catch Jack's mother, after all...

Anyway, the letters had also revealed that the governor was trying to make a move on Jodi. All the more reason to kill him, rather than just hold him hostage. It really wasn't that unreasonable to Jack. After all, he was planning (if at all possible) to kill his sister's husband just because the man had done his duty to society and killed a pirate. Of course, Jack had a grudge since the pirate was his mother. If he'd been a greater man when he was younger, he would've told Jodi who had killed Rosalyn and why she'd been killed. But he'd been weak. Didn't want to ruin his sister's happiness. And now his sister was being abused by the man Jack hadn't been able to face all those years ago. He should've just shot Commodore Dennis after finding his mother dying...

Needless to say, Jack didn't want to really come to Nassau. He knew that Jodi loved Nathaniel, and if she knew that he'd come to kill him..well, that wouldn't be very good. Of course, Jack really wanted nothing to do with Jodi. He just wanted to free her from that oppressive man. What she did afterwards was up to her.

Sighing as the _Pearl_ gently stopped near the docks of Nassau, Jack wondered if he should really "accidentally" kill Commodore Dennis or not. Perhaps if he ran into him, he'd kill him...if not, he'd leave her alone. While Jack was almost positive Jodi was being abused, he could always be wrong. Not that not killing him would give the world much of a favor, mind you, but Jack couldn't bear to see Jodi so unhappy again. It'd killed a part of him to see her reaction to his mother's death all those years ago. Not that he'd really been able to notice at the time, but his sister's grief had been the final thing that drove him to alcoholism and women...not that Jack regretted that decision, of course. He always knew when to say no.

* * *

Jack frowned as he stepped onto the gangplank and out into the city. It was about noon...they had quite a bit of time to kill before tomorrow night's daring attempt at a new record of sorts. With Jack's plan...they'd sack a city without firing a single shot. It really wasn't all that remarkable of a plan, for it made the most sense. There was no point in killing the innocent over a few pence.

Weaving like a drunkard, Jack wandered aimlessly throughout Nassau. His legs led him to the warehouse he planned on using. Looking around anxiously, Jack glanced the place over again. It would work. So well, in fact, that Jack planned on switching the maneuver around a bit. His whole crew wouldn't have to storm the governor's mansion...he could probably do it himself. Of course, Jack wouldn't do it with just himself...he'd bring along someone he could trust to watch his back. Not like Nipperkin, Ragetti or Pintel. They'd probably get frightened and shoot Jack in the back accidentally. No, he'd take someone like Bootstrap or Barbossa or both with him into the governor's household.

Smiling slightly, Jack gently touched the loose board in front of the warehouse door. This was almost too perfect...surely something would go wrong, right? Everything goes wrong at some point. But he'd planned for every situation...it would work perfectly.

Turning his attention from the warehouse, Jack glanced at the governor's house. How could someone be so pompous that they had such a large home near so many poor slums? Honestly...Jack hated the injustices of the world. Nothing ever seemed to work out for the underdog. Of course, Jack was a pirate. It just seemed a bit excessive to him that the large home be for a widower. What would you do with a house so large?

Whistling some old sailing tune, Jack meandered his way closer to the wrought-iron gates of the mansion. The pristine lawns, no doubt pruned by a very experienced slave, seemed to be glaring at Jack. Each blade seemed to be able to sense what sort of mischief he was going to bring about on the sedate household.

"Stop lookin' a' me like tha'," Jack said with a frown. Of course the grass couldn't answer back. It really wasn't glaring at him. But he hated this feeling before he did something new and sinful for the first time. Made him want to drink himself to oblivion. Of course that wouldn't work, though. If he got drunk, he wouldn't be able to concentrate tomorrow night when it counted.

The grass still seemed to glare at Jack as his gaze shifted up the sloping driveway to the house. Jack was pretty sure that the house resembled the governor, based on Jodi's letters. He was overly ornate in an attempt to hide his ugly face, like the garish ivory house with the large pillars trying to hide the fact that it had once been a measly one room cabin. Jack could tell that, even with his inexperienced eye, the house had only recently been made to look ancient. Most of the vines creeping up the sides of the yellowed house were painted on. Why would a man be that vain? And who really cared if the house looked old or not? It was built in such a way that it mocked all the castles in Europe, having a false turret in one corner. Disgusting how some people used their wealth.

Pirates never used their money they stole from the wealthy for such outlandish things. They helped the economy by spending their money in establishments that needed it (taverns and brothels) rather than on fancy clothes or homes. Even pirate captains freely distributed their wealth, only keeping their ships in working order. That's why pirates had to continually steal...to keep the economy going.

* * *

**Alteng**: Yes, Barbossa does get a major brownie point for saving the _Pearl_. Have no fear, however, he will end up mutinying in the end. First I've got to put in a bunch of stuff I've been planning for almost a year now...there's a bit of foreshadowing in this chapter.   
I know I wish I could type in my sleep...of course, that might make my writing even more odd... Anyway, thanks for the review! I'm glad you had the opportunity to finally catch up...   
And the coordinates are to a treasure...just one you're not expecting...   
To answer your review from the previous chapter...well, Bootstrap claims he knew nothing about Matthew's plan. It was to make Jack more wary...though, he'll probably fall back to his old ways...like an old dog, he is...   
**sunkist3208**: You couldn't have had the tacos and enchiladas and then left a review? Dunno what's gotten into you, Whitney. A mere paragraph...anyway, I'm glad that you un-confused yourself...   
**Laura**: It isn't your fault I was sick...don't worry about it, Laura. Of course the emerald is important. Besides, the girl who...erm...made Meagan leave Jack had emerald eyes...as did something in the prologue...   
**Jack**: Well, I'll eventually say whose handwriting it is....I'm sure it won't really be that much of a shock. Not like the whole flashback thing...   
**Daisy**: Barbossa has to be nice. Jack has to trust him, after all. He's just a rather good actor or something...been in the business of underhandedness for a while, ya see? When are you going to update again? Oh, and this time you get a LOTR poster...   
**Aliana Archer**: I know...I was rather astounded to learn that they didn't have pockets back then either...seems to me a reasonable invention...but, you can't change the past. Thanks for leaving a review...and I'm glad I didn't confuse you. I like confusing myself...and the paper will eventually be explained. I suggest that you pay special attention to one of the earliest chapters...   
Since you were the first to review, you get a loverly replica of the compass that doesn't point north... 


	21. Accident

Disclaimer: I do not 'ave permission t' be writing this, mate. 

AN (11/21): I have so much free time after school...and yet I procrastinate new chapters. Shame on me. Anyway, I hope you like this one. It should be more interesting than the last.

Chapter 20: Accident

"We be ready, Cap'n," Bootstrap Bill Turner said softly, glancing over the crew a few times before drawing his gaze back to Jack. "D' ye really think this is the bes' way?" While he hadn't openly admitted that he had reservations about Jack's brilliant scheme, Jack could tell that his friend was almost as worried as Barbossa.

"Of course I do," Jack responded evenly, blinking a few times as he scanned the scallywags in front of him. "It will save a lo' of time in the long run, if we split up." He smiled to his men, who seemed to be antsy inside the abandoned warehouse with its closed shutters. Glass was very expensive, so only homes of the filthy rich aristocrats could afford windows. Everyone else had open holes in their homes with shutters to keep out the cold and rain during the monsoon season. The shutters seemed to watch Jack with an air of disdain as he explained who was going to what key area. By attacking at the same time, there would be no chance for resistance. Plus, Jack wouldn't have to shed unnecessary blood. Only those who would actually be a threat would be hurt.

"Well, then, le's go," Skip commented soberly, staring at Jack with a look on his face approaching that of idolatry. No one could come up with a better plan. Why had pirates always been using their cannons to storm a city, anyway? Jack's idea made much more sense. No respectable pirate liked wasting money on ammunition. They'd rather spend their swag in brothels and taverns.

"Split up in'o yer teams. Remember no' t' strike until ye 'ear the bell in the town square ring twelve times." Jack glanced at his crew, glaring at a few of them he really didn't trust. "If ye strike before tha', the soldiers will be alerted." Barbossa shook his head slightly as he watched Jack speak. He didn't bother raising concerns, however. He'd done that already on countless occasions. Jack wouldn't be persuaded to follow another idea.

The crew nodded their agreement and split into teams of varying sizes, slowly leaving the warehouse to get to their proper positions before midnight rolled around. Jack, Skip, and Hawksmoor waited until everyone had left before they slowly made their way to the governor's house. Jack didn't trust anyone with the key to the treasury but himself, which was why he was headed just across the street to those lawns that mocked him. The governor would surely have a key to the treasury...which was the only thing they were sacking the port for. No sense in stealing arms from the armory. Those were easily purchased. Besides, Jodi had mentioned several times that the governor taxed the poor of Nassau much to heavily. That meant that the treasury would be full of gold.

* * *

Jack glanced between Hawksmoor and Skip as the sleepy church bell started crying into the night. "Ye ready?" he asked softly. They'd been standing in front of the gates for almost half an hour now, trying to keep from talking. It was an awkward silence, for Jack could tell that Skip wanted to talk about something. Skip never did like silence. 

Hawksmoor slowly nodded as he stopped leaning against the fence. He had looked like he was asleep. The man with a large nose which rather resembled the beak of a hawk never said much. That was partly why Jack didn't trust him. But Jack couldn't have Barbossa or Bootstrap accompany him. They needed to keep order in other key positions. At least he'd chosen Skip for himself. Jack trusted Skip more than most of the rest of his crew. Then again, Jack was rather paranoid that something like what happened with Matthew would happen again.

Skip nodded as well, quickly unlatching the gate and stepping onto the slightly moist grass. It was quite humid today, and the darkness seemed to be pressing on Jack's chest as he walked forward, followed by the lanky Hawksmoor.

As they stepped onto the porch and Skip finagled with the lock, Jack felt an unmistakable feeling that he needed to turn around. Of course, Jack didn't often act on feelings alone, so he smothered that underneath his exuberant confidence in his plan. This would go down in history books as probably the most daring thing he'd ever done. Skip had the door open in no time. It was amazing how good at picking locks Skip was, especially considering the fact that he was a cook.

"When ye find the governor, holler," Jack instructed quietly as they stepped inside the house. As he spoke, his dark brown eyes scanned the room. The governor had a horrible taste in colors and decorations. Jack could tell that much even though the room was almost completely dark. The lace curtains over the windows were letting just enough light in that Jack could discern blue from red and yellow from green and make out some outlines of chairs and such.

"Right," Hawksmoor and Skip agreed. Hawksmoor silently crept towards the overly ornate staircase in the center of the parlor and started climbing up the stairs to the sleeping apartments above. He would probably find the governor...but Jack had seen a light on in the kitchen. Perhaps the man was hungry. He went off towards the left as Skip took the right.

Jack really hoped he'd be the one to find the corpulent official elected by their king all the way back in England. He wanted to make the man squeal, partly because Jack wasn't busy storming his sister's house right now. He knew that if he'd gone...they wouldn't have gotten the key to the treasury, nor would he be able to think clearly. Obviously he'd shoot first and ask questions later because of the way he hated the man who'd killed his mother and bought his sister.

* * *

As Jack entered a room with a table and chairs (and the same horrible wall paper), he noticed a slight light shining through the door across from him. Obviously there was someone in there. Or they'd left a candle out on accident because they meant to burn the house down. Jack highly doubted that. It was probably the governor in there. 

Grinning maliciously, Jack silently crept up next to the door and pulled his gun out. He could hear something going on in there. What it was...well, Jack was fairly sure he knew what it was, based on the moaning he heard. Disgusting. Who was in there? Hopefully it would be that stupid governor busy molesting his wife...or a servant girl. Jack didn't think the man had a wife.

Jack pulled his gun out of his effects, idly caressing the handle before he cocked it. His ear was still pressed to the door as he waited for a more "opportune" moment. He couldn't wait too long, but he really didn't want to see what was going on. The thought of a man like the governor enjoying himself with a woman was just too disgusting.

Sighing softly, Jack started tapping his foot. When would the activity end? All Jack wanted to do was go in there and get the stupid key. He didn't even really intend to use his gun. It was more for show. It was easier to get a man to do something you wanted him to do if he thought that you would kill him. Men were always most compliant to new issues when they felt threatened. When would the activity end?

He was so busy listening at the door for the cessation of the illicit activity that he didn't notice someone creeping up behind him, trying to keep from being heard. Jack didn't even notice as the person behind him slowly lifted up a heavy object, preparing to smash it over Jack's thick skull. So enthralled was he, Jack didn't even notice the arms of the person falter under the heavy weight.

Of course, just as the person, a servant no doubt, planned to protect her governor, the noise in the kitchen ceased. Jack grinned and turned slightly so that he could get the door open. His arm brushed against the skirts of the servant planning to knock him out and his finger reflexively pulled on the trigger.

The sound of the bullet escaping the gun bounced around the house a few times as Jack cursed himself softly. What had he been thinking? Now the governor would know he was here. Besides, he'd just shot an innocent servant. He glanced at the figure lying on the floor for a moment, his mouth gaping open as he noticed it was a woman. Why was it so dark in here? If he'd known it was a woman, he wouldn't have shot at her.

Shaking, Jack slowly put the gun down, jumping as the door opened and a nearly nude governor appeared. Jack moved his lips without sound coming out as he thought of what he'd just done. He'd shot a woman. An innocent woman merely trying to defend her household from danger.

The governor was red with fury all over as he tried to see Jack more clearly. "Well...sir...I'm afraid that you will have to turn yourself in." It was amazing to Jack that the man could speak with such authority, even though he was very far from decent.

Jack slowly shook his head and pulled the gun up again. "I'm afraid no'," he managed in a disfigured voice. "Give me the key t' the treasury, or I shoot ye as well." Each word seemed a bit clearer, though Jack felt like he were speaking Latin.

The governor frowned slightly, staring at the barrel of the pistol through almost crossed eyes. "I see your point." It infuriated Jack that the governor wasn't man enough to check on his loyal servant. The woman clearly wasn't dead quite yet, for she was struggling to say something.

"Good." Jack held out his free hand expectantly as Skip and Hawksmoor entered the room. They'd obviously heard the shot and had come running to investigate it, since Jack had warned them not to shoot unless it was absolutely necessary.

The governor frowned and reached into the little purse attached to his beefy neck with a small strip of leather. Jack watched impatiently as the governor's fat fingers tried to get the key out of the red satin bag. Jack began tapping his feet, nearly jumping as the servant touched the fringe of his pants. Was she trying to get his attention or something?

"Hurry up," Hawksmoor croaked, pulling his own gun out and aiming it towards the young woman inside the kitchen wearing nothing more than her underclothes. "Don' make me shoot 'er."

The governor rolled his eyes slightly as he continued looking for the key. "The woman means nothing to me. She is merely a diversion while my wife is away." He looked as though he might laugh until he noticed Skip's sword creeping towards a rather tender area. "Here it is, gentlemen," he announced airily, withdrawing a sparkling gold key. He placed the key contemptuously in Jack's hand. "You aren't going to get away with this, gentlemen. Commodore Dennis will surely stop you once I raise the alarm."

Jack chuckled faintly, restraining himself from kicking the servant's hands as she grasped onto his pants. "Well, mate, ye clearly 'aven' dealt wiv Captain Jack Sparrow before." He paused for a moment as the servant pulled his pant leg tighter. Frowning, he continued, "The Commodore will find 'imself surrounded." He nodded towards Skip. Skip smiled and moved his sword away from the governor's tender spot, knocking him upside the head with the handle. Hawksmoor would've done the same to the woman if Jack hadn't shook his head. "Jus' tie the woman up t' the governor. I'm sure she'll 'ave a lot t' say t' him."

Hawksmoor and Skip chuckled as they grabbed a rope from the kitchen and tied the lovers together. Jack watched with little interest as he stared at the key, trying to ignore the servant at his feet. What was her problem? Jack already felt horrible enough that he'd shot her, but now she was begging for help? Pirates didn't help the people they wounded. That just didn't happen.

When the corpulent man was tied to the rather attractive woman, Hawksmoor and Skip started walking to the door. "Comin', Cap'n?" Skip asked as he noticed Jack hadn't moved from where he'd been standing the whole time.

Jack nodded, shaking himself out of the stupor he'd been in. So what if he'd killed a woman? She'd been in the way. He had to meet up with the rest of his crew in about ten minutes, anyway. No time to dwell on the guilt. He moved his left foot forward and was about to move his right when he faintly hear, "Jack!" from the woman down on the floor.

Something about that voice was incredibly familiar. Jack froze instantly as his eyes traveled to the floor. He couldn't make out any definite features...who was she?

"Captain?" Skip questioned again, frowning as Jack suddenly stopped moving. Skip knew that Jack was a bit odd...but they had a schedule to keep.

"Go on wivout me," Jack said suddenly, throwing the golden key across the room and into Skip's hands. "I've got t' end 'er misery."

Skip and Hawksmoor swore under their breath. They couldn't disobey a direct order, however, no matter how stupid it was. Why was Jack even bothering with the girl? It wasn't like she had the key to the treasury. That was now safely in Skip's hands. Shaking their heads, they gleefully ran out of the room, anxious to show the treasure they'd gotten. Hopefully everyone else had accomplished their goals.

"Jack," the voice said softly again. It was obvious to the eccentric captain that she was having a hard time breathing. Of course, he'd hit her somewhere near her left lung.

Jack slowly bent down closer to the body, still trying to remember where he'd heard the voice before. How she was still alive was a miracle, actually, for any other person would've just given up trying to fight. Jack certainly had to give her credit for her determination...yet this scene would probably haunt him the rest of his life. The first woman he'd ever injured was dying in front of his eyes.

When Jack was close enough to put a name to the voice by seeing the incredibly pale face, he felt like fainting. "Meagan?" he questioned softly, staring at the pool of blood next to her blouse. What was she doing in the governor's house, anyway?

* * *

**Laura**: Well, that chapter was leading up to this action-packed one. I like to call such boring chapters a breath of fresh air before I do something evil. Some of the boring ones, however, are there because I've really got no ideas...  
Anyway, of course I noticed the references to emeralds. I did 'em on purpose. It'll all tie in eventually. And woot! I've got Pringles! -dances-  
**Aliana Archer:** Wow! I think you might be on to something, mentioning that compass... Anyway, I'm glad you like his little economic theory. I found it rather amusing myself. Does explain why he's a pirate, though, with that nice heart of his... Thank you so much for leaving me a review!  
**Alteng**: I'm glad you liked his philosophy on economics. Of course, I would think the same way if I was a pirate...  
Well, he'll forget all about those nephews... Poor Jack... I'm so cruel to him. And he probably did feel a bit of a tinge...but got over it. I wouldn't feel sorry for leaving behind a mutineer. As he says in the movie, "The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers." Obviously he doesn't like either much.  
Thank you so much for the constant encouragement! I can't wait for your next chapter...  
**Daisy**: Well, Jack is a bit of a drama geek... And I understand. It takes a certain type of person to be able to spew stuff out... Of course tis a poster of Billy Boyd! Though, I don't know why you liked him more than Johnny... Thanks for the review and the encouragement!  
**Jack**: Obviously I didn't change my mind on poor Meagan. She had to be a lamb, I guess, for the slaughter...I'm still deciding if I want to do something that you noticed earlier or not...  
Even the good guys have bad names...so, can't the bad guys have good names? I mean, I never let on that Commodore Dennis and Nathaniel were the same man until a while ago...  
It was somewhat plain, but it was necessary to set up this whole problem. And I can see why you think Jodi needs a daughter, but sons aren't that bad. I know that I have five brothers...and I'm okay. Kinda. Anyway, thanks for the review! Since you were the first to leave your sentiments, you get a loverly joystick! 


	22. Surprise

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be using these characters... 

AN (11/25): The last chapter has been done for almost a week now... Silly fanfiction, not letting me update. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to any of you living in the US...

AN (12/3): This chapter...well, it was a bit difficult to write. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration...but I'm sorry it took me so long to update. Hope you enjoy this newest chappie...

Chapter 21: Surprise

"Jack," Meagan responded, smiling lightly and putting an extremely pallid hand on his bent knee. "I need you t' do something for me."

How she was still alive was quite a mystery, actually. Jack had seen many men die of wounds less serious than the one he'd given her. He stared at her hand dumbly for a moment, feeling as though he'd shot himself in the foot or something. His conscience was plastered with guilt. The pale moonlight washing into the room seemed to make matters worse. It gave the blood pool on the floor a slightly silver hue.

When Jack didn't respond, Meagan merely went on, a worried look in her pale blue eyes. "Jack, yer daughter is in the next room over. I need you to take care of her." The worry in her voice was strong enough to make Jack feel even more guilty about the whole thing. It barely even registered in his mind what she'd said. "Please, Jack. I'm begging you." This was obviously the dying plea of a mother desperate for someone to take care of her child. Her voice ripped through Jack's soul. How could anyone ever refuse such a desperate plea?

Jack stared at Meagan numbly as even more color drained for her face. She was obviously fighting hard to stay alive long enough to have some sort of peace of mind for the life afterwards. "I will," Jack found himself replying. He watched in absolute horror as her hand slumped off his knee immediately and hit the floor, a content smile on her face as she drifted off into oblivion.

Jack looked at the corpse for a moment, still trying to process what he'd promised to do and what he'd done. He'd killed the only woman he'd ever loved. Killed her in cold blood because he'd been holding a pistol to steal from the treasury by kidnapping the key from the governor. She'd merely been trying to defend her home, and he'd shot her. Breathing a bit heavily, Jack gently placed Megan's cooling hand next to the pool of crimson staining the carpet. He'd killed her. And yet...she hadn't seemed angry with him. All she'd been worried about was her daughter.

Jack dropped the pistol to the floor as he thought of the daughter. Meagan...he had a daughter? Jack Sparrow couldn't be responsible for any children. He couldn't have any children. That couldn't happen to Captain Jack Sparrow of the famed _Black Pearl_. Surely she'd been jesting when she'd said "yer daughter", because Jack would never make a woman pregnant and then betray her like that. No. He couldn't have. It just wasn't possible. Jack would never abandon the mother of his child.

Amid these swirling thoughts in his mind, Jack noticed a light headed towards the room. Were other servants here to investigate? What if he was captured? Frowning, he pulled the door to the kitchen open and stepped behind it as the light drew closer. He heard someone muttering something. The voice sounded incredibly angry, but so silent that Jack could tell the person had quite a bit of self-control. It was a male's voice, which made Jack both more anxious and more relieved. He could deal with killing a man... but he didn't want any more blood on his hands.

The man with the candle didn't seem to notice that there was a corpse on the floor. He walked right past Meagan and the door behind which Jack was standing. For a moment, Jack could see what appeared to be a large hat on the man's head. This was unusual. The man about to find the tied-up governor was obviously not a servant.

"Governor!" the man exclaimed, completely astounded when he noticed the governor and the woman tied together on the floor. "What happened?"

Jack felt the unmistakable urge to laugh at the whole situation. Restraining himself from doing so was probably the hardest thing he'd done so far. A man's guilty conscience often wants to make it obvious to the world that something is wrong. He was biting his lip so hard that he tasted that awful metallic slobber that indicated he was bleeding.

"I was robbed!" the governor said importantly, clearly both upset at the man's sudden appearance and relieved. "Could you please help me up?"

Jack frowned slightly as he heard the man help the governor up to his feet. It struck him as a bit odd that the woman wasn't saying anything. Wouldn't she be grateful as well? Something about the man's voice made Jack want to punch a hole in the wall...

"Jodi!" the man said, shock and indignation in his voice as Jack heard the slight whumph of the governor being allowed to drop onto the floor again, along with the woman. Obviously the man hadn't expected to know the lady. Jack felt shivers down his spine. What if....no...it couldn't be the Jodi he knew...

"Hello Nathaniel." Jack had to strain his ears to hear the reply as the woman muttered it near the hardwood floors of the kitchen. He knew that voice, most definitely. His sister...she'd been sleeping with the governor? How long? Rage filled Jack as he contemplated that fat man having anything to do with his fair sister...

The governor groaned and cursed softly as he struggled to his feet. "We were only discussing your promotion, Commodore."

"This late at night?" Nathaniel couldn't keep the fury disguised very well as Jack heard him turn to face the kitchen door that was still closed. Jack heard him take a deep breath and imagined him turning back to face the governor.

"Yes," the governor replied easily, lying like a knife slicing through whipped egg whites. Obviously he was a politician, or he would've sounded flustered. Jack was fairly sure he'd kept his flabby face from blushing as well. Frowning, Jack clenched his fist into a ball and had to work to keep himself from moving.

"We were only discussing your promotion, Nathaniel," Jodi confirmed quietly. Her voice was full of sympathy at what Nathaniel was experiencing and honesty. When had she learned to lie so well? "I came this late because it was the only time the governor could see me."

Jack heard his brother-in-law sigh. Obviously Nathaniel didn't believe her or him...but it would be so much easier for him if he did. "I meant to say, Governor, that most of my officers have been attacked by scoundrels. I barely escaped by killing the three who attacked me." Jack frowned slightly, trying to remember whom he'd sent to take care of the man who'd murdered his mother and married his only sister. Obviously he hadn't sent anyone who'd actually kill him...Jack hadn't wanted his nephews or sister to get hurt at home.

"You were attacked?" the governor asked lightly. Jack could almost hear the saliva in his mouth near his lips as he suddenly yelled, "Well so was I! Didn't you happen to notice the dead body out there, you bumbling fool! Go after them! They're headed towards the Treasury right now! I bet that some bloody pirate captain is the mastermind of the whole operation!" Jack heard the fat man pant a few times. He'd felt a small prick of pride when he'd been referred to as a bloody captain...but that soon disappeared into his anguish from killing the only woman he'd probably ever love.

"Yes sir," Nathaniel replied, not the least bit cowed by the man's ranting and raving. He turned towards the kitchen door, stopping as he noticed the woman on the floor. "Governor...I suggest that you barricade yourself in the fort. You never know what they intend to do after they raid the Treasury." Jack felt like punching the door to make it swing into Nathaniel's nose. He didn't say anything more to Jodi as he stormed off, in search of the pirates who were doing such a good job at stealing from the city.

Jack shook his head lightly as he heard the governor storm off to the fort. At least the politician appointed by the king could pay attention to good advice...not that it did any to lift the man up in Jack's eyes. All he wanted to do was kill both the governor and the commodore for the way they treated his sister...not that he'd treated the woman he'd loved any better. At least Jodi wasn't dead.

Light sobbing soon filled the kitchen as Jack slowly crept out from behind the door. At least it was dark...Jodi probably couldn't see him. Yet...his brotherly instincts were touched by her tears. It reminded him of the day she'd announced her engagement to Nathaniel Dennis.

What could Jack do? He couldn't really comfort her...he'd just killed the mother of his child. He had to find the little girl and dump her off in someone else's hands...but Jodi's piteous sobs were tearing at his already broken heart. He felt like joining her. That was really saying something, for Jack hadn't cried since that fateful day when Meagan had left him the first time.

"Jacob?" Jodi asked through her sobs as she peered over to where he was trying to get to the door out of the dining room. "I know you're still in there."

Jack rolled his eyes slightly, wishing she'd just leave him alone or call him by his new name. "It's Jack, Jodi...no' Jacob. Jacob wouldn' kill a defenseless woman." Blast his aching conscience...he'd said something he hadn't intended to say. He really hadn't intended on saying anything.

Jodi peered at him curiously as she kept sobbing silently. "Fine. Jack then. Why are you still here? Don't you kill people all the time?" She rubbed at her head and sat down on one of the counters. Jack could hardly see where she'd moved to, because of the faint moonlight in the kitchen. It was much lighter in the dining room.

"I kill men who try t' kill me," Jack responded heavily. It now struck him as odd that he hadn't recognized her earlier, when Skip and Hawksmoor had been busy trying to embarrass her. Of course, he really hadn't been thinking properly, because he'd shot a woman, and he'd been concentrating on the governor...but this was too much of a shock, seeing her in there. "No' women."

"Jack...she startled you," Jodi replied, still sobbing. It was amazing that she could cry and comfort others at the same time. "Don't beat yourself up over it."

Jack bit his lower lip. "I wish I could follow yer advice, sis...bu' I jus' can't. The woman...well...I knew 'er." He found himself walking to the kitchen towards Jodi's familiar voice. On his way into the kitchen, he nearly tripped over the rope that had tied Jodi to that fleshy display of ineptitude. Obviously Nathaniel had untied them while Jack had been listening behind the door.

"You knew her?" Jodi asked softly, a frown on her face. Jack couldn't see the frown...but he could hear it as he stepped next to the counter. She sobbed lightly a few times more, clearly more worried for her brother than for what had just happened to her.

"Aye," Jack admitted with a heavy sigh. "I almos' married 'er. An' now she's dead." His voice was falsely light, as if he were discussing the weather.

"Oh." Jodi's sobs disappeared as she put a hand on her brother's shoulder. She hadn't seen Jack in over eight years, and it felt like it had been just yesterday he'd left her again. She didn't know what to say, of course, for she could tell he was eating himself up with guilt.

Jack nodded and sighed again, wishing he could stop feeling like he needed to cry. That wouldn't solve anything. Though...now that he had his sister here..."Jodi?"

"Hmm?" She'd apparently been lost in thought during the strained silence. "What is it, Jack?"

"D' ye think you could do me a favor?" Jack bit his lower lip, struggling not to cry. Goodness, he couldn't be a father...not after he'd just killed the poor girl's mother. He'd be too full of guilt to do anything with her.

"What?" Jodi asked, wondering what in the world Jack would want her to do. He was always so fiercely independent...

"I...well...I jus' learned tha' I'm a father. An' I can't take care of a little girl on a pirate ship." Jack stopped as he fought back the tears of complete despair. If Jodi refused to take care of his daughter...well, he didn't think he'd have the heart to abandon the girl at a monastery or something. And he really couldn't take care of a child on a pirate ship.

"You want me to take her in?" Jodi asked softly, moving her hand from his shoulder to his cheek. "Jack...I'd be happy to." She was fairly sure that the woman he'd killed that he'd known was the girl's mother. But she didn't want to ask any questions. It didn't matter. "Where is she?"

"Meagan...she said that she's in the nex' room over." Jack choked on the words he wanted to say next. Sighing, he struggled to gain control of his emotions as he felt Jodi wipe at the tears rolling down his face. "I don't even know 'er name, Jodi."

"It's all right, Jack," Jodi said softly. "I'll take care of her...and find out her name. Don't you fret about a thing. You could even forget you had a daughter, if you want to."

"Thanks," Jack said, putting his hand to her's and pulling it down. "I don't wan' t' forget about her, you write about 'er, in your letters?" He was ashamed of crying...but at least it had been in front of his sister, rather than in front of his crew.

"Of course," Jodi replied. She smiled and touched his cheek once more before jumping off the countertop. "Shall we go meet your daughter, then?"

* * *

**meggumscat**: Ya know, I really don't know why I didn't update earlier....but I suppose I'm lazy. Sorry for keeping you on the edge of your seat, as it were, and thanks for the review. And, thankfully, I can handle being Nied at.  
**Aliana Archer**: Tis what I like to call irony. Well, of course, anything unexpected is ironic. And this is a very ironic chapter...much more so than the last one, eh? Anyway, he should've accidentally shot the creepy governor. I'll have to have a discussion with him about that... Thank you so much for the constant support...and I'm truly sorry I kept you waiting for so long.  
**padme17**: Oh, I'm so sorry I kept you waiting for so long! I really didn't mean to...but school is, well, icky, and I'm busy applying for college...lame excuses, but that's all I've got. I generally update once a week. Thanks for discovering my story and leaving your compliments!  
**Jack**: Well, Fanfiction was being a pansy. Wouldn't let me update for a few days. Sorry for the delay...thanks for your support and heckling. Since you were the first to review, you get a loverly yellow lupe plushie from McDonald's. 


	23. Bitter Rose

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this... 

AN (12/3): I hate calculus...pure evil. Well, I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if my teacher actually explained what we were doing...but, oh well. On with the chapters, eh?

AN (12/9): Wow...I started my first story a year ago today. And I'll be eighteen in eight days. Scary. In honor of my one year mark, I'm going to give an ice-cream float and party favors to everyone who leaves a review.

Chapter 22: Bitter Rose

Jack nodded slightly, wishing he could understand why Jodi wanted to help him. It didn't make any sense...he hadn't talked to her since the last time he'd seen her, before he'd become captain of the Black Pearl. He'd even faked his own death so that she wouldn't think about him, when he'd first run away from home. But, here she was staring at him with those honey eyes that had led many a young man to their downfall with her compassion and innocence. Even though Jack knew what she'd been doing with the governor, he wanted to believe that nothing had happened because she'd said so.

"Come on, then," Jodi said, wiping the last trace of tears from her eyes. She seemed to be glowing with both excitement and concern for her brother as she grabbed his hand and led him out of the kitchen, hurriedly pulling him past Meagan, though she wanted to see what she looked like. Apparently she'd forgotten that Jack had heard the whole episode before he'd shot his love...or, maybe she wanted to make Jack think she'd forgotten.

Jack flinched slightly as they stepped out of the dining room and Jodi expertly led him to the room where Meagan had indicated his flesh and blood was. Of course, it wasn't all that hard...he could hear a child crying. Actually, he'd been hearing a child cry in the back of his mind after shooting the gun, but it hadn't registered. It was the only external sign of how he was feeling, but Jodi knew that he was busy beating himself up for what had happened.

Stopping in front of the room with the crying little girl, Jodi sharply said, "Jack, don't do what you're about to do. You can't do it again, Jack." She was suddenly crying again as Jack stared at her blindly. "Jack! You can't do this again. Not again. Not like after mum. You can't shut yourself into your stupid head, Jack. You've got a ship to take care of. And some sort of nefarious plan..I'm sure your men are waiting for you. Don't you dare go up into that bloody head of yours!" The emotion in her voice was enough to make even the most weathered sailor push back a lump in his throat.

Jack frowned slightly, the glossiness that had been in his eyes disappearing only slightly. "Who are you t' say wha' I can and can't do? Look, Jodi, yer really no' as righteous as ye think ye are. Sleepin' wiv the governor t' get that pig of a husband o' yers promoted?" He felt like spitting, and was about to do so, until he noticed that indignant look in those honey eyes he used to know so well.

"Jacob Smith! What have you got against Nathaniel? He does his job...provides for his family..." she suddenly stopped talking and crumpled onto the floor, leaning her back against the wall as she started sobbing. "Doesn't love me," she added softly a few moments later, putting a small hand up to her eyes. Any composure she'd had disappeared as she stared up at Jack. "Jacob...what is it that you were always trying to hide from me? The fact that he visits brothels?"

Jack slowly shook his head, rather alarmed by his normally strong sister's meltdown. Especially since the little girl in the room right in front of them was screaming, now that she heard voices. "I din' know, actually," he replied softly, part of himself disappearing into his head again. He didn't need to hear her story...not now.

"Was it that he has several mistresses? Or how about the fact that he enjoys abusing young children? What was it, Jacob? I want to know." Blast those eyes of hers...staring a hole into his head.

Jack inhaled sharply and quickly said, "He killed mum, if ye must know." He let the air in his lungs explode back out as he and Jodi stared at each other for quite a while. The crying of his daughter was nearing the point where it was merely whimpers with the occasional screech.

Jodi finally broke the silence with a soft, "That explains a lot," comment. She choked back another sob and stood up by pulling on the doorknob to get the proper amount of leverage to get her not-so-thin body off the floor. Having several children will mess up a woman's body. Of course, Jodi was the sort that wouldn't complain about a child, even if he or she were an absolute wretch, so she certainly wasn't about to complain that her slim figure had been ruined.

Jack inhaled sharply againas Jodi opened the door after straightening her skirts and getting the last sobs out of her eyes. He didn't want to see the girl in there. This was worse than the time he'd been branded...

"Hello, there," Jodi said sweetly as she stepped into the room and picked up the little girl. Her cries had stopped as she surveyed both adults with slightly wary blue eyes. She couldn't have been much older than two. Not that Jack was the best at telling children's ages, mind you, but the girl was rather small and looked remarkably like himself. She had the same dark hair, same perfect nose, though it was miniature. The only difference was that she had Meagan's blue eyes and was a girl, rather than a boy. Jack was fairly sure she'd be quite a beauty when she was older.

"Hewwo," the girl said softly, calmly surveying both Jodi and Jack now that someone was here to scare away the bad noises. "Mum?" She looked around anxiously, her blue eyes somehow able to convey that she knew what had happened.

"Your mum went on a bit of a vacation, dearie," Jodi said softly, putting the girl's weight on her left hip. She seemed rather small. "She won't be back for quite a long time. But I'm here to take you home. What's your name?"

Jack stood near the doorway, far too numb to say anything. This little creature was his flesh and blood? How could that be possible? Not that he didn't disbelieve Meagan. He could clearly see himself in the little girl.

"Rosemary," the little girl replied, shifting her gaze from Jodi to Jack. She stared at him for a long time until Jodi started moving towards the door. "Mum?"

"Rosemary, dearie...your mum is busy right now. But she wants you to come with me. I'm your Aunt Jodi." Jodi smiled slightly and kissed Rosemary on the top of her forehead. "She'll be by a bit later to see you."

Rosemary started whimpering as Jodi carried her out of the room towards the front entrance. Jack hadn't moved at all. In fact, he didn't even move when Rosemary began screaming as Jodi walked out of the front door. He could still faintly hear the girl a few moments later, but Jodi apparently got her under control...or out of hearing range.

What had he just done? He'd completely shirked any sort of responsibility he should feel towards the little girl onto Jodi's already weary shoulders. She was sleeping with the governor to further her cheating husband's job, after all! Spitting in disgust, Jack finally pushed everything to the back of his mind again. He wasn't really a father...a pirate couldn't acknowledge the fact he had any children...they'd be in far too much danger for him to do something like that. Besides...Hawksmoor and Skip probably thought he was dead or something.

Sighing heavily, Jack walked into the other room to look at Meagan's corpse one last time. It was cool now...it looked too cool. Grabbing the lace tablecloth off the central dining room table made of carved oak, Jack gently put the billowy material over the cold form that had once been so animated. A small tear escaped the corner of his left eye as he rubbed at the ring she'd given back to him so long ago. "G'bye," he said gently. With that weak eulogy, he left the governor's mansion to try and find his crew.

* * *

It really didn't take him long to locate the motley crew of men he called his. They were in the Treasury...and the governor and his brother-in-law were laying on the ground in front of the Treasury, knocked out by what appeared to be the handle of a sword, based on the cuts and bruises on Nathaniel's body. Jack frowned slightly and kicked the man. Obviously Commodore Dennis had no idea what sort of woman he'd married. It gave him slight satisfaction to hear Nathaniel groan in pain. "Serves ye right," he muttered as he walked up to the reinforced wooden doors and knocked. 

"Aye?" Ragetti asked stupidly as he slightly opened the door. The gleeful noise of men stuffing their effects, pants, boots and shirts with treasure could be heard behind him. Of course, Ragetti couldn't even see Jack...he was looking out the small slit with his wooden eye.

"I sugges' ye move away from the door, mate," Jack said exasperatedly, pushing the door into Ragetti. The rather heavy door hit Ragetti right on the nose, and Jack watched with morbid fascination as the man's wooden eye popped out. He almost felt like laughing as he stepped inside the Treasury past the muttering Ragetti. The man really deserved it...who'd be so thick they'd stare out of a small slit with the eye that wasn't there?

"Ah, Cap'n!" Barbossa said warmly as he noticed Jack step into the room. "We've been wonderin' where ye were."

"I 'ad some business t' take care o'," Jack replied as carelessly as he could with an eccentric shrug. "I see tha' ye din' find it necessary t' wait...how much more d' ye need t' get hauled off t' the Pearl?" His dark eyes wandered for a moment as he surveyed his crew stuffing a sack with the last pieces of eight.

"Tis our last bag, Cap'n," Barbossa replied, following Jack's gaze with his own blue eyes. They lingered for a moment on the infamous captain as Barbossa's breath sharply left his lungs. His face was indiscernible, however, and was soon back to a semi-smile when Jack looked back at him.

Jack smiled and nodded, a bit distracted by Ragetti moaning over his eye as Pintel stooped down to find it. Amazing how close the two of them had become...and a bit suspicious. Ah well...at least he didn't have to worry about Snide Shaine any longer. "Well...this 'as all gone accordin' t' plan," he commented mostly to himself.

Barbossa nodded slightly and went off to make a final sweep of the Treasury. Jack sighed softly to himself...how was he supposed to keep up this charade? He felt horrible on the inside...and was afraid that his sister would show up in a moment with his screaming daughter...or perhaps he'd have a vision of his first bonny lass...

"Jack?" a familiar voice asked as a hand found its way onto his shoulder. "We need t' get movin'." There was just the slightest hint of concern in Bootstrap's voice.

Jack shook his head slightly, alarmed to notice that at least five minutes had passed away in the blink of his eye, so to speak. He almost felt like he was in a dream as he started walking. One of those dreams where you desperately want to wake up, but can't...

"Are ye all righ'?" Bootstrap asked, walking alongside Jack as they stepped out into the darkness still enfolding Nassau. Jack felt like it was reaching around the corners of his soul. "Ye seem...distracted." His light brown eyes were only full of concern.

"I'm fine," Jack replied distractedly. He didn't want to admit he was having a problem with his very soul...Bootstrap would never understand. He hadn't killed Lauren...he'd merely left her and his child.

"You don't look fine t' me," Bootstrap replied with a cluck of his tongue against his teeth. Jack had learned long ago that Bootstrap did that when he was disappointed with something, whether it was Jack's hair or Jack's attitude...it didn't matter.

"I'm fine," Jack replied again, with more feeling. Bootstrap really had a knack for getting on his nerves these days. They hadn't seriously talked about his whole confession thing since getting off that bloody island...

"Jack Sparrow!" Bootstrap chided gently, reminding Jack of his sister. "You 'ave t' tell someone...better me than the whole bloody crew the nex' time you get drunk. I know you're tryin' t' hide somethin'...an' it won't get better until ye tell someone else abou' it. The las' time ye tried t' hide somethin' like this, ye showed Barbossa too much of yer soft side, Jack. Pirates don' get depressed over women leavin' 'em...your reputation...well, it wasn' as good as it had been before." Jack's eyes filled with sudden anger at that. Barbossa...he'd told about that rather odd conversation? Bootstrap noticed the anger and sighed disgustedly. "Jack, Barbossa din' tell a soul...bu' someone heard the conversation. An' 'e blabbed it t' the whole crew a year or so ago, when 'e was three sheets t' the wind. You need t' realize that not everyone likes you, Jack!"

"I'm very much aware of tha', thank you," Jack muttered angrily, shoving Bootstrap with his shoulder before walking away briskly. He was in no mood to be lectured right now, especially not by a man he didn't think he could trust. It'd probably been Bootstrap who'd told the crew about that odd conversation he'd had with Barbossa that one day...

Bootstrap stared at Jack for a moment, wondering why he even bothered trying to help the fiercely independent man. One day, that pride would cause some sort of harm that Bootstrap wouldn't be able to stop...if only he realized how close he was to falling. Sighing, he ran after Jack. This needed to be discussed...

* * *

**sunkist3208**:If you had left a review, it wouldn't have let you leave another. But thanks for leaving a quick one. I know how it is to feel icky...it sucks, it does. I hope you feel better soon, Whitney!  
**CatharineofKally**: Ah...so that's what happened to Sam. He's my favorite hobbit...so noble. Anyway, thanks for leaving a review/explanation/compliment!  
**Eccentric Banshee**: Thanks for leaving an excuse! I wish you the best of luck on finishing your story about the Patriot...and I hope to run into you again around Neopets. I shall wait breathlessly (okay, maybe that's a hyperbole) until you are able to review again!  
**CrazyPirateGirl**: I'm glad your hooked...honest, I am. I actually prefer this story to the other one. Action...I like it better than romance. Thanks for leaving a review, and I hope you like the rest of the story!  
**padme17**: I hope this was fast enough... I generally only update once a week, though. And I'm glad that you're so nice! Thanks for leaving me a review!  
**Aliana Archer**: If only you knew why I was worried about making you wait so long...anyway, thanks for the review! I'm glad I can surprise people still...and aye, Jack's a father. Kinda scary, really...but I hope you liked Rosemary. She's only about two years old...poor thing, lost her mum...  
**Daisy**: Not the ebil ! -giggles- It is quite all right. I really understand. And I don't think any cute chapters are going to surface for a while...Jack doesn't want to admit to himself that he has a daughter, or he'd be responsible for something... I like your nerd joke. I should tell it to Mr. Vuong...-giggles- speaking of Calculus, we had to write a story using twelve vocabulary words...I'll have to send it to you on MSN or something, because what I ended up with is very stupid. Thanks so much for your constant support! I just wish I could do more for you...  
**Jack:** Aye, Jodi has a girl to care for. I just feel sorry for Rosemary...all those boys? I can sympathize, seeing as I have five brothers...anyway, thanks for being the first to leave a review! You get a loverly bucket of pony beads, as a reward. Jodi only did it to help Nathaniel...though, I wouldn't help that scum out...and Meagan was originally supposed to be in that room, with the governor. Then I got a better idea, and had her outside...and then Katie gave me the idea to have Jodi in there somehow, because she thought that Jack had accidentally shot Jodi, rather than Meagan, at first...anyway, thanks! 


	24. Curse?

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this, in case you didn't notice... 

AN (12/19): Sorry for the long delay...I gave myself the week off, for my eighteenth birthday...  
(12/20): I finished this in tech today...I'm so ahead of the rest of the class...

Chapter 23: Curse?

Jack had absolutely refused to discuss anything with Bootstrap, and was completely oblivious to the talk his men were having behind closed doors. He didn't want to see that everyone was losing respect for him as a pirate. All he wanted to do was forget seeing Meagan die every time he closed his bloody eyes. It was driving him insane, pretending to be the extrovert he normally was. Jack used to be unable to understand those men who felt it was better to hold their tongue than to express their opinion...but now he could relate to them. He hardly ate anymore, for it seemed like such a stupid chore. Food seemed to taste like the blood he'd had in his mouth, from biting his lip behind that door.

Every time he looked at himself in a mirror, Jack could swear he saw someone alien inside of him smirking maliciously back. Almost like it was telling him to enjoy the fact he'd killed someone very dear to him...abandoned his daughter, just because she'd be an inconvenience. He disgusted himself.

Sighing, Jack was pulled out of his thoughts as a knock sounded at his door. He put the quill he'd been using to scribble his thoughts down on a scrap of paper down on his desk before standing up and walking to his cabin door. Surprise surprise...there stood none other than Bootstrap. However, he had a very worried look on his face...which was very unusual. "What is it?" Jack asked tiredly, rubbing at his eyes and smearing his kohl slightly. Jack hadn't had a decent night's sleep in almost a month, now.

"Jack...we need t' talk...right now." Bootstrap stepped inside Jack's cabin (something that was never done, for Jack had particulars about his private space). He twirled around and swiftly shut the door after looking around a few times. "D' ye realize wha's about t' happen?" he asked urgently, slowly turning again to face Jack.

Jack frowned and was very tempted to pull out his pistol. His hand twitched down to his effects and started playing with the gun with one of his hands. "No, mate, I 'ave no ruddy idea. Wha's abou' t' happen, then, other than me kickin' ye out of me cabin?" He sat tiredly down on his bed, running his fingers through the now coarse and worn material that served as his blanket.

Bootstrap actually rolled his eyes. "Jack, come off it...ye mean ye 'aven' realized wha' they're plannin'?" He rolled his light brown eyes again as he noticed the blank stares of Captain Jack Sparrow. That man could be blind, if he wanted to be.

"Plannin'? They? Wha' sort of nonsense are ye thinkin' of now?" Jack sighed slightly, pulling his hand to his lap and flipping it over, to examine the rawhide he had tied to his palm to keep the ropes from burning him, while working in the rigging. It was hard to swing around on ropes without the rawhide.

"Thinking of?" Bootstrap shook his head softly. "Jack...I know tha' they're plannin' somethin'. Somethin' horrible." He sighed and sat down in one of Jack's armchairs, setting his feet up on the bed, as if to say something.

"Why d' ye 'ave t' be so bloody vague?" Jack asked, forcefully restraining himself from pushing Bootstrap's feet off the bed. That would be a bit rude...but he couldn't help but think of all the disgusting things his friend had walked through in those worn boots.

"Because if I tole ye exactly, they'd know," Bootstrap replied quietly. "Think about it, Jack Sparrow. If ye value yer ship, ye'll think abou' the way ye 'aven' really been runnin' things." This was his last attempt at getting the man to think reasonably again. Honestly...Bootstrap couldn't understand why Jack was so...out of it, as it were. It didn't make any sense. Hawksmoor and Skip said that the raid of the governor's house had gone fine, save for that pistol shot...no one knew who Jack had shot, anyway.

Jack nodded slightly, still not sure what Bootstrap was hinting at. It felt like a part of him was dead...which was why he'd practically given all power over to his crew. They were itching for some sort of adventure...he knew that, but he didn't know how to fill that itch. There weren't any treasure maps around...or...what about those coordinates?

* * *

It was a noisy, hot, miserable room filled with far too much smoke that assaulted the nostril along with the fragrance of urine, ale, rum, blood, and slovenly disorder as you stepped inside the place. The tavern had been named _White Dove _years ago by a man with a dream, but his dream had obviously turned into a nightmare, based on the smells and sounds inside this decrepit room with peeling boards more liable to give you a splinter than to keep the wind out. The stars could be seen through the slats of weary wood, twinkling their merry way across the sky as they tried to ignore the aberrations that man constantly created. This was a crime against nature, to put creatures inside a building such as this that leaked every time it rained. That didn't stop man from asserting his dominance and placing a goat on the counter, near the haggard looking barkeeper that would probably rather pluck your eye out than fill your order the way you wanted it filled. 

Jack was inside this horrid place, listening intently to a man with only one finger on his left hand and a face so scarred that it was hard to see what his mouth actually looked like. Jack thought he almost resembled a potato, because of the sunken brown eyes about the same distance apart on his face as he'd seen eyes on a potato. Of course, he wasn't about to tell the weathered man what he thought of his appearance. Jack could tell that he was in the presence of a very wise sailor.

"They say, lad, tha' there's more treasure in tha' thing than in the French treasury." The man was completely serious as he leaned forward and grabbed the mug of rum Jack had purchased for him (as well as refilled) as a way to pay for the information. It was how leeches such as himself were able to live after they were too old to be at sea, for he was definitely too old. The stringy white hair was a dead giveaway, flowing down his shoulders like spilled milk as he contemplated Jack carefully. The look in his wizened eyes was almost enough to make Jack shudder.

"An' you're positive tha' tis on an island tha' doesn't exist, unless you know where it is?" It really had been pure chance that Jack had overheard this conversation. Perhaps Lady Luck was back on his side, for Jack knew that he had to do something soon to satiate the anger of his crew. They'd been simmering with hardly any good catches for several months now, and Jack could finally see he needed to do something. Jack had ordered the _Black Pearl_ to Tortuga, so they could at least get rid of some of the pent up energy they had with the strumpets…that's what they were here for, right? Jack had been to every other tavern in Tortuga but the White Dove, which is why he'd come into this dank environment in the first place. He would've left immediately, if he hadn't heard the old man say something about an island that couldn't be found. His mind had instantly jumped towards the small slip of paper he'd found in his pocket, giving directions to something that didn't exist.

Barbossa, sitting next to Jack, was watching the interchange with only a mild amount of interest showing up in his body language and facial expressions. He sighed softly, drumming his fingers on the distressed table a few times as he waited for the old man's response. Surprisingly, Barbossa hadn't objected to hearing tales of treasure. Jack had expected him to…then again, Barbossa had been quite exuberant (or, rather, as exuberant as he let himself get) about treasure when Jack had triumphantly returned to the _Pearl_ with half the treasure he'd been intent on getting. Perhaps Barbossa realized that people really did bury treasure, even though it seemed like a tale to tell small children to make them dig deeper when getting a hole for the bathroom each year or so.

"Aye, lad, tis on an island tha' cannot be found, except by those who already know where tis." The man sighed softly, a frown tugging at the corner of what Jack was assuming to be his mouth.

"D' ye know where the treasure is, then?" Barbossa asked, a frown gracing his face as well as the man took another long drink of rum. He hated questioning the elderly…they could never just come out and say what it was you wanted them to say.

"Nay," he responded softly, sounding almost sober for a moment. "If I knew where the island was, I'd be out getting' the treasure, disregardin' the curse entirely."

"There's a curse?" Jack asked as his eyebrow slowly raised itself up in slight disbelief or surprise…it was hard to tell which, especially since Jack had a few rums himself during their conversation.

"Aye, lad, a curse," the sallow man replied, looking back towards Jack. "They say tha' the Heathen Gods placed a terrible curse on the treasure." He smiled mysteriously and winked, his permanently tan face full of both excitement and dread as he paused dramatically.

"Wha' sort of curse? An' wha' heathen gods?" Jack asked. He didn't believe any of this, as evidenced by the other eyebrow going up in disbelief. As he waited for the man to respond, he grabbed his mug of rum and took a swill of the amber liquid.

"They say tha' Cortez 'imself was the first man t' lay eyes on the treasure. The heathens were tryin' t' make him stop killin' their kind…thought tha' the gold would satiate 'is greed. Of course, Cortez wasn' exactly the sort o' man that could be swayed by mere money, when 'e could kill the godless heathens an' take all their money for Spain, so he accepted the treasure, see, in a big ceremony. After the ceremony was complete, 'e shook hands slowly wiv the priest in charge and waved his men forward, who killed all the heathens present as he stabbed the priest in the chest himself. Apparently the Heathen Gods decided t' curse the treasure…t' try an' make the debt Cortez racked up for those innocent heathens be paid…whoever finds the gold an' takes a piece is supposed t' turn in'o some sort of heathen himself."

Jack was shaking his head lightly through the whole story, as was Barbossa. Heathen gods? They couldn't put a curse on anything, for they didn't exist. Obviously just some attempt at making extremely superstitious pirates afraid to go after the gold. Jack would do something similar, if he wanted to hide something…by making things sound worse than they really were, you would be able to go back and claim your gold at a later date. Of course, just having it on an island that couldn't be found was a good enough hiding spot…obviously someone found it, though. "How'd it get on the island, though?" Jack asked, not liking the logic of this story.

"I don' know everythin'," the man replied with an offended scoff. Why'd he just wasted his time telling people that story, if they didn't even believe it? "Perhaps the Heathen Gods jus' decided t' put it there. Or maybe Cortez 'imself. He could still be alive, for all ye know."

Barbossa scoffed at this and suddenly stood. "Come on, Cap'n…this is nonsense. Why don' we go spend our money in a better abode?"

"Good idea," Jack replied, slowly standing and pushing his chair in. "Well, old man, I hope tha' someone will find tha' treasure one day…no sense in talkin' about it otherwise. Ye'd jus' be wastin' other people's money."

The old man merely laughed. "Well, ye seem t' 'ave figured it out…though, I am fairly sure such a treasure exists. Pass it on, when ye get t' be me bloody age." He laughed and slammed the empty mug onto the table.

Jack nodded slightly, as though promising to do just that as he followed Barbossa out of the miserable place onto the street. "An' why did ye want t' listen t' a man wiv a story abou' an island tha' can't be found?" Barbossa asked critically of Jack as they walked away from the noisy laughter towards the docks. He glanced over at Jack and saw the man smirking in the moonlight.

"Because I think I know where tis," Jack replied, a glint in his eyes. "Since there's no such thing as curses...well, I don' see why we can't a' least try t' find it, eh?"

* * *

**darkmistylagoon**: Millions? Really? That'd be spiff-tastic! I want to be an author, actually...thanks for the applause, and for the review...and if I can get you to think about it on a sub-conscious level, all the better. -giggles and tosses you a freshly baked cookie-  
**Aliana Archer:** The Commodore is a creep...I'll agree with you there. And poor Jodi...such a tragic character, willing to do anything for her brother...and poor Jack! He'll forever be tormented by his lost love...and no, he's not very bright. That's what makes him so fun! Thanks for the happy birthday! -tosses you some birthday cake-  
padme17: I don't like going out of town...I'd miss my beautimous computer too much to go away...thanks for the review, and sorry for the delay!  
**Jack's-Island-Angel** : Well, I'm glad you think tis too good to point out any flaws, Kess. -grins- I haven't been on for a while, eh? I should come on more often...but I'm really busy, right now.. Thanks for the review! I really appreciate it!  
**orcachick2005**: Aye, poor Rosemary...but Jodi did what she thought was best, after all. And no worries...he's going to abruptly lose that act, in a few chapters...or maybe one chapter...depends. And Bootstrap is giving up...that was his last attempt, up at the start of this chapter. No more. And...woot! That's so spiff-tastic! Except for the part that some of the songs aren't even from this year...but that's okay. Thanks anyway! You get...erm...a rose. Yep...a red rose.  
**Alteng**: You're so good at noticing things I forget to put in...wow. That deserves a yellow rose. And poor Ragetti...but Jack really had to vent some anger...and he's a good punching bag, as it were. Thanks for your constant support and helpful comments!  
Jack does have a bit of a feminine side...probably because I'm the one writing him...twist him to what I think he should be like, ya know?  
**Jack**: Well, I thought it'd be too cruel for Meagan to be in with the governor...no matter. And Jodi is incredibly forgiving...she'd never kill someone. Though, I think Nathaniel deserves it. -nods- She'll probably convince him that Rosemary was from an orphanage...or something. Jodi will think of a way to take care of her. She wouldn't let Nathaniel hurt her...and thanks for the review! You can have...erm...a pink rose.  
**sunkist3208**: Whose t' say that Rosemary isn't really Sandra? Rosemary happens to mean bitter rose...just thought you'd like to know...anyway, maybe Jodi will call her something else...you never do know. And Jack...well, he kinda got over it...and Jodi now has a daughter to take care of...go Jodi! And the commodore..well, he's a jerk. How'd you like my potato man? -giggles and remembers the conversation about Hannah and Dustin we had once- Thanks for all your support, Whitney! You get a spiffy....well, you get the first copy of my story...it suddenly surfaced next to my computer. Has the prologue and chapter two written out... 


	25. Mutiny

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this… 

AN (12/23): Twas the day before the day before Christmas, and all through the house, Erica was scrambling to complete her surprise for all loyal reviewers. This is part of it...your little pre-Christmas Eve present, as it were.

Chapter 24: Mutiny

"It apparently is much larger than the las' treasure we found, wiv the help of a map." Jack paused for a moment, breathing deep enough to continue addressing his whole crew. It was quite a feat, really, for the swarthy men would stop every once in a while to discuss amongst themselves the rumored treasure on the island that couldn't be found. Jack didn't know if he really wanted to mention the curse to the men (for sailors had always been very superstitious, because of the uncertainty of the sea) now. He didn't believe in curses…there was no way that some heathens would be able to curse gold. Magic didn't exist, much like miracles. The galley was crowded and quite hot because of all the people crammed into the place intended for about half of them at one time. Every single table was surrounded by interested crew men sitting on the chairs that would need replacing before long. Jack made a slight mental note about that.

"So there's no map, then?" Skip guessed after a few thoughtful moments of intense contemplation. The rest of the men apparently hadn't made the connection, and Jack was a bit grateful that someone had caught that. Made him feel like he'd chosen his crew well.

"No…there's no map." Jack looked almost sad for a moment as he reached into his effects and pulled out the wrinkled bit of parchment he'd been carrying for over a year now. "However, I do 'ave these coordinates, t' a location tha' doesn't exist."

There were a few brief murmurs of approval as the crew discussed the new development amongst themselves. Jack shuddered slightly as he noticed the look on Koehler's face. It was one of complete greed. Jack had really disagreed with Barbossa, when he'd hired Koehler, Simbakka, and Nipperkin, but he'd lost the argument, mostly because he didn't want to admit that the three had beat him up for "cheating" all those years ago. It'd taken him about a month to remember where he'd seen the three of them, anyway, and it would've been a breach of contract for him to fire them so soon. He sighed and shook his head, wondering why Barbossa had even called this meeting in the first place.

"Well, I, for one, think we should go after the treasure," Bootstrap said softly. The bickering stopped abruptly as almost everyone turned to pay attention to the weathered pirate. The crew really respected Bootstrap and looked up to him as a leader after Barbossa. "The wors' tha' can happen is that there's no treasure."

"There's treasure there, I'm sure of it," Barbossa snapped, uncharacteristically impatient with the whole situation. There was a rather disturbing look of greed in his eyes as he glanced around the crew a few times. He almost seemed to be waiting for something.

Twigg shook his head. "I don' think so, Barbossa…Cap'n…well, he's no' exactly a trustworthy man. I think 'e made this whole bloody story up." A few of the men gave rather hearty ayes as the atmosphere inside the gently rocking galley abruptly changed to that of right before an electric storm.

Jack turned his head abruptly to face Twigg. "Wha' was that?" he asked coldly, a sudden fear gripping his heart as he realized that all but a few of his crew were staring at him in much the same way. The boredom in their eyes had been replaced with anger and hatred. His crew shouldn't be looking at him this way…no, he was a good captain. Or, he had been a good captain, until he'd accidentally killed Meagan…it'd changed him.

"Jack, I think its time ye realize tha' you don' know how t' be a captain," Barbossa said coldly, glaring holes into Jack's muddy eyes with his malicious glare. He stood up and pulled his gun out, aiming it directly at Jack's heart.

Jack's jaw actually dropped open in surprise. Was this really happening? Surely he hadn't made them so unhappy…they had made a few weak pickings. "An' ye really think you can do a better job?" he asked incredulously, fighting his reflex to put his hands in front of his heart (as if he could catch a bullet).

"Aye, Jack, I really do," Barbossa replied with a tired sigh, cocking the gun. "An' the crew does as well." All of the crew, save Skip and Bootstrap, slowly nodded their agreement.

Jack looked at all of them slowly, not really caring that he had a gun aimed at his heart. None of them softened, and Bootstrap seemed to be saying that he'd warned Jack. "Bloody…why…Mutiny?"

"Yes, Jack, this is called a mutiny. Now, I sugges' ye stand still, while Ragetti ties yer bloody hands t'gether an' takes tha' piece of paper from ye." Barbossa nodded Ragetti forward, who quickly and gleefully pulled a piece of rawhide out of his pocket and walked next to Jack after making his way through the crowd of hostile faces, forcing his hands together and tying them with as much force as he could use with rawhide. Jack frowned and clutched the paper, but Ragetti easily forced his grip apart with a knife.

"Ye'll pay for this," Jack commented with more venom than he'd used ever before in his life as he stared at Barbossa. The evil man was finally showing his true colors again, and Jack realized he'd been lulled into a false sense of security. Blast his natural trust in people!

"I really doub' tha', Jack." Barbossa laughed cruelly, joined by the rest of the crew as he kicked Jack in a rather sensitive area and ordered Koehler, Twigg and Pintel to take Jack down to the brig, to await his punishment. They were only three days out, after all, and it was open water on all sides.

* * *

"Ye know, Jack, you really should've seen this comin'," Pintel commented as he sat next to the brig door. Legends of Jack Sparrow (no longer captain) were such that Barbossa (though he'd known Jack since the man had first turned pirate) ordered Jack to be watched at all times, so that he couldn't pull off any of his rather famous escapes. 

"Oh, an' tha's supposed t' make me feel better?" Jack responded tiredly, slowly opening his eyes and staring up at the wooden boards that made up the ceiling. He'd only been trapped in here for a day, but it felt like an eternity. His ship…the _Black Pearl_ wasn't his ship, was it? How could that be? He'd been racking his mind for ways to get the _Pearl_ back…but he couldn't. Not with almost the whole crew against him.

"Well, no," Pintel responded with a rough shrug and a crude gesture. "Bu' ye shouldn' act so bloody surprised. Doesn' make sense, for a man like ye t' be surprised."

Jack sighed and shut his eyes again. He realized that Barbossa was merely tormenting him, by making him listen to the mindless ramblings of such men as Pintel. Of course, he couldn't talk to anyone he really wanted to talk to: Bootstrap, Skip or the demon himself, Barbossa…that would be too nice, for a man who technically should be dead. Besides, Jack would definitely try to arrange some sort of attempt at getting out of prison with Skip and Bootstrap. They couldn't be trusted alone together. Jack really didn't understand why Barbossa hadn't just shot him…it would be better than this. Anything would be better than this Hell…sitting aboard a ship that you loved more than anything else, but unable to see any more of it than the closet reserved for prisoners. He felt dead on the inside.

Pintel sighed to himself, tapping his foot against the floor as he leaned back on the simple chair next to the wall, grabbing a rather illicit drawing he'd purchased somewhere in Tortuga and staring at it.

Jack frowned, barely able to muster up disgust at what Pintel was doing. Honestly…he would really rather be dead. He was being caged up inside of his only vessel to freedom, being forced to listen to something he didn't want to listen to after killing the mother of his daughter…how could life get any worse?

Of course, life has an interesting habit of getting worse exactly when individuals don't want it to, for as Jack tried to drown out the grunts from Pintel, he completely missed the sound of boots on the stairs leading down to the brig. Jack didn't even notice the door open and Pintel's astonished squeal as he quickly put the picture away and mutter something before leaving the room. In fact, Jack almost resembled a dead man-if he'd had any less color, it would've been hard to distinguish him from a fresh corpse.

"Jack," the new figure said, his voice mocking the very word as he put his hands on the cold iron bars keeping Jack from his freedom.

Jack frowned as his mind processed the new sound…well, it wasn't a new sound. But it was less disturbing than the other sound that had preceded it, and it definitely wasn't Pintel. "Aye, Hector?" Jack asked back, his voice as bitter as earwax.

"I bet you're wonderin' why I haven't killed ye," Barbossa guessed shrewdly, sitting down with pomp and circumstance on the chair that had just been vacated. His voice was far too cold…this couldn't be the same man who'd once offered advice to Jack. How much of that had been an act?

"Jus' a bit," Jack replied, trying to sound as normal as possible as he slowly sat up. "I'd really rather be dead," he remarked, so serious that it was scary.

"I'd really like t' oblige tha' request, Jack. I would. Bu' I can't." Barbossa glanced at Jack contemptibly, as though he hated the fact that Jack wasn't dead as well. He stopped talking, a new glint of pure hatred in his eyes as he stared at Jack, coldly analyzing him.

"Why no', pray tell?" Jack responded a few moments later, upon discerning that Barbossa would say nothing further. Jack wasn't sure how to read Barbossa anymore…clearly he'd been wrong before, when analyzing what he'd said.

"A promise, long ago, tha' I made t' someone." Barbossa put a rather lewd emphasis on someone, as though thinking of a woman. But what sort of woman would Barbossa make a promise to, concerning Jack?

"Wha' are ye talkin' about?" Jack asked tiredly. He was in no mood for games. "Jus' say whatever it is you wan' t' say…you've won, Barbossa. End my misery, for life isn' worth livin' wivout the _Pearl_." Jack frowned slightly at himself…he hadn't meant to sound that impassioned.

"Well, if ye insist," Barbossa replied with a laugh. Apparently the predictable way Jack was responding was amusing to the man. "Well, ye see, Jack, I used t' visit your mother, whenever Calico Jack would stop in White Magnolia." He paused purposefully, carefully watching Jack's reaction.

Jack made no outward sign indicating that he'd heard what Barbossa'd said. Well, that would explain whose familiar voice he'd heard, that day he'd nearly drowned. His jaw clenched imperceptibly as he pictured his saintly mother…doing that sort of thing with Hector Barbossa.

"One day, when you were a mere whelp of a boy, you followed…and I saved your life. Made some bloody promise to your mother (who really was a wonderful woman, in bed at least) that I would do all in my power to keep you alive. I've never been a man t' go against my word…so, I've been tryin' t' keep you safe. Mos' of the crew wanted t' kill ye outright, Jack…but I think there's a more fitting punishment for you."

Jack didn't say anything in response. Blast his mother! Blast…blast everyone! Couldn't he live his own bloody life? Couldn't he die, when he wanted to die? Was all of his freedom gone, now that he was disposed of his position? He merely shook his head. Was it supposed to surprise him that his mother hadn't been the saint he'd always assumed she was?

* * *

**padme17**: Here's another update for you to enjoy! I actually...well, I shouldn't say this, but I actually finished this on the twenty-second. And I hope this is suitable...there will be another scene, where Jack is made governor of that little isle...and then this book will be over, for the mutiny will be complete. Of course, I'll write a little epilogue, tying the prologue into the story more...  
And Jack has to be in for it...or I'd be changing the movie. Can't have that. Thanks for the review!  
**CrazyPirateGirl:** The new crew...that's what threw Jack off the most. He never did relate to the newbies, as it were. I feel sorry for poor Jack...but I can't very well have it end nice, since it is a tale of mutiny, after all. And I hope you knew what would happen in this chapter (though I probably did surprise you, by not having Barbossa throw him off the same day and by explaining the flashback...) Thanks so much for the review!  
**sunkist3208**: I think more people should be potato shaped, actually. -grin- I know...it is so hard to believe that I've been writing for over a year...scary. And I'm glad you liked that I've returned to the original storyline (though he technically didn't fire a shot in Nassau, save for the one that killed Meagan, and Jack's been known to exaggerate) finally...I liked most of the side stories, though. Makes Jack seem more like a real person. In my crazy mind, at least. And he would've said something...but their relationship is a bit strained...  
And it is the first copy of the last story...all handwritten, with various notes (and a rather good title I didn't use) and missing a part of the first chapter... And go a pickle and a potato! -bounces-  
**orcachick2005:** Perhaps I like to confuse you, Daisy, and make you remember what you last wrote. Or do some research. I do a lot of research, for this story...and I feel like I have to make you do some of your own, to fulfill some sort of crazy fancy that I ...just kidding. I'll try to be better about stating the question/comment with the answer. Thanks for the criticism, though. I appreciate it.  
And I'd hope that you like this mutiny...and don't look at it in a twisted way, though I did throw in that rather disturbing thing about Pintel...silly of me, really. And if you don't like it, then you should start over. I do that sometimes, on my chapters (okay, maybe more than I'd care to admit). If you don't like your fanfic, start over. I happen to like it, but that's me.  
**Jack's-Island-Angel:** Shady characters like the old potato face man are always more fun to write than just some guy missing an eye or something talking about the cursed treasure of Cortez. One generally doesn't hear about curses from handsome men. Odd, eh? And thanks for the belated birthday thingy! I'm not entirely sure what to call it...but, meh. And Merry Christmas to you!  
**meggumsca**t: I like leaving people in suspense, if you can't tell. Horrible habit of mine. -evil grin- Thank you oh so much for the review, Megan! I'm glad you liked my potato man...he lives on the left side of my brain's apartment complex...  
**Aliana Archer**: Yep, birthday cake for you. This time you get a pretty snowflake ornament, for leaving a review first on the last chapter. Thank you so much for leaving such nice compliments and a review! And the curse thing will come back to haunt him... 


	26. Marooned

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this...sorry to disappoint all you people who think I should get it published... 

AN (1/14): I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this up here...I've been having a very hard time writing. School is awful...and I couldn't think of anything I wanted to say...and I've been learning too much about how other people write things, and I get caught up in syntax and crap...  
Oh...the dialogue, when Jack is being kicked off the _Pearl_ between Jack and Barbossa? That's from the Pirates of the Caribbean game boy game...  
And...good luck tomorrow, Johnny!  
Oh...one last thing. If anyone can tell me where I have a reference to cereal in this chapter, I'll put you into one of my stories...

Chapter 25: Marooned

"Ye aren't interested in knowin' me more fittin' punishment?" Barbossa asked softly, clucking his tongue against his teeth after several minutes of hateful silence. "I'm surprised in ye, Jack Sparrow. You really shouldn't take this so hard."

"How d' ye sugges' I take it, then?" Jack asked sarcastically when he'd finally found his voice again. Did Barbossa have to taunt him like this? It was just making his resolve to get revenge stronger.

"Well, more like a captain. Or even a pirate. Your soft ways are too lenient for a pirate, Jack." Barbossa smiled and stood, grabbing an apple from a worn barrel in the corner across from Jack and sitting back down. He tossed the green piece of fruit back and forth between his weather-worn hands, apparently amused by the whole situation. Jack got the distinct feeling that Barbossa would like to see him in bars for the rest of Jack's life. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on either man. Jack was imprisoned on the one thing that brought him true freedom. Poor Jack.

"Thanks," Jack replied with a heavily sarcastic smile that quickly mutated into a bitter frown. This was just horrible. How was he supposed to react? He had no weapons, for Barbossa had taken everything from his effects but his broken compass. While he could throw it at Barbossa, Jack doubted it would do anything to stop what was happening or make the compass suddenly work. Though...it could be fun...no. Barbossa would just smirk, if he reacted like a normal man.

Barbossa shook his head slightly, frowning at Jack for quite a long time as the apple hopped between his hands. This wasn't going exactly how he'd pictured it. Of course, Jack was an odd fellow, so why had he expected the usual tears and vows of revenge? Shaking his head again, Barbossa slowly got up from his seat. "Got what ye deserved, Jack," was all he said before leaving the room.

* * *

A few hours later, near sundown, Barbossa reappeared in the room with Nipperkin, Kaman, Scratch, Dog Ear, and Jacoby. "Tis time for yer reckoning," Barbossa said with faint derision as Dog Ear and Scratch unlocked the brig. Jacoby and Kaman stepped inside the little cell and forced Jack to his feet, certainly not using any gentleness as they coldly contemplated their former captain. They roughly pulled him out of the cell and up the cells. It unnerved the four accomplices because Jack said nothing in complaint or anger as they reached the decks of the _Pearl_. But they weren't about to say anything to Barbossa, for the look on his face was one of complete triumph. 

The sun was slowly setting to the West, leaving brilliant shades of red, orange, violet, and pink as it slowly made its way to warm other parts of the earth. Maybe it didn't want to witness the unfolding scene, for it seemed to be going faster than it had the night before. Before the mutiny, before the evil head of revenge reared itself in front of Jack. He watched mutedly as the sky progressively darkened, wishing he could just wake up from this horrible nightmare. But he couldn't wake up. This was really happening.

Kaman shoved him next to the railing near a plank of wood that'd been specially set up for this purpose as the _Pearl_ bobbed peacefully up and down in the waters near a small island, completely unaware of the turmoil up on her decks. Not many men had the privilege of saying they'd been forced to 'walk the plank'. It involved three or four forced steps and a threat of death to make a man actually want to jump into the oft-times shark-infested reefs. Who knew what sort of danger lurked in the briny depths near an island? Besides...what awaited a man banished to an island wasn't all that pretty. Starvation or suicide. That was the only way off islands as remote as this one.

Jack mutely gazed at each of his crew after Kaman left him next to the railing. Barbossa would inevitably want to gloat more. The disgust, hatred, and betrayal in his eyes was strangely muted, even when he saw Bootstrap standing next to Skip in the back of the crowd. Of course Bootstrap wasn't saying anything. He wouldn't stick up for Jack. No one cared what happened to him. No one in the whole world. He was losing his reason for living, and no one cared.

"Well, Jack! I'm afraid your career as a pirate has been a rather short one." Barbossa smiled after shaking his head lightly, as though he thought it was a bad thing. Seven years as captain of the _Pearl_ really wasn't all that short of a career. Of course, when compared to Barbossa's life on sea...it was a mere pittance. Jack was reasonably sure that Barbossa'd been a pirate at least twice as long as Jack had been. "_I_ am captain of the _Black Pearl_. No one challenges _my_ authority."

The crew nodded in the affirmative, sending little shivers of pure spite racing down Jack's back. He almost felt like throwing up. How could men change loyalties so fast? Sure...he'd been rather distant for the past few months...but he was still a good captain, right? The look in Kaman and Nipper's eyes was enough to squash that thought in his mind. Best to react with his characteristic good humor, right? "You're evil and cruel, Barbossa!" That hadn't come out the way he planned. He sounded like he actually cared...hmmm...maybe he did actually care. He cared a lot. This was his life, and Barbossa was stripping it from him like some sadistic jerk stealing candy from a helpless child.

Barbossa smiled slightly, curling his lips up over his teeth in a most unpleasant display of their rather decrepit state. Tooth decay was a common companion to pirates. That's why Jack had so many gold caps on his teeth. That, and he often chipped his teeth in battle. "How _kind_ of you!" The words were mocking Jack's pain. Everyone on the crew could tell that he really didn't like the insult but was amused by it nonetheless. The sarcasm was not lost on even Ragetti, the dunderhead who was staring blankly between Barbossa and Jack with his real eye resembling the wooden one he had in. "But sadly...there's no time for a pleasant chat!" Barbossa's eyes hardened as the sarcasm left his voice completely and he pulled out a pistol, cocking it and aiming it at Jack's head. "Get walking!"

So forcefully said...oh, what Jack wouldn't give if he could just spit in Barbossa's face and talk to his crew...unfortunately, he now had a gun pointed at him. "But..." he knew it was a futile gesture to say anything, however, for Kaman suddenly stepped up and slapped him across the face, turning him to face the little plank of wood that would bring about his doom. How could he live without the gentle rocking of the sea while he walked about his beloved ship? It just didn't seem possible. Jack had done many things that didn't seem possible...but this would definitely be the most taxing thing of all. He couldn't help but hope he'd eventually wake up and realize this was all a dream...Barbossa wasn't like this. Unless...well, the man had probably been acting around him for years now.

Barbossa's eyebrow quirked slightly, as though asking what the problem was. It wasn't all that hard to walk down a plank of wood and jump off and swim with bound hands to an island that would surely be his tomb. Not that hard at all. What was the man's problem? Didn't he realize he was unnecessary? A bad captain, that made bad decisions? He didn't deserve all of Cortez's gold. Or even a small portion of it.. "Walk the plank!" he said with a sneer. The eyebrow went back down to complete his scowl as he added, "Just like a _real_ pirate!"

Like a real pirate? What in the world did Barbossa mean by that? Real pirates didn't have to walk the plank, when their crew mutinied. No...real pirates were blissfully killed so they didn't have to live with the whole 'I'm never going to see my ship again' thing he'd be dealing with in a matter of moments. Shaking his head lightly, Jack slowly walked towards the end of the plank.

"Wait...Cap'n Barbossa," Bootstrap said suddenly, stepping forward towards where Jack was preparing to jump into the water. Would he actually stand up for Jack? Had he suddenly realized that life with Barbossa as captain would be anything but easy? Jack couldn't hardly breathe as he turned slightly to better watch his one time best friend approach Barbossa.

"What?" Barbossa asked almost tiredly, turning his gaze from Jack to the tall man. He didn't lower his pistol, however, and his finger seemed eager to squeeze the trigger.

"Isn't it usually a custom t' give the man a gun wiv one shot, before marooning him on an island? So tha' 'e has a way out." It was a custom to do that very thing. You gave the man a pistol with one shot to end it before he had to starve to death. It was a gruesome way to go out...starving to death. Jack's heart plummeted, however, as he realized how serious Bootstrap was being. He was telling Jack to end his life, in effect. So...he had no friends. Ironic how today was March 15th. If Bootstrap didn't care about him, there was no point in doing anything but using the pistol to kill himself. Barbossa'd won. How humiliating.

"Ye know, Bootstrap, yer right," Barbossa remarked almost thoughtfully. He grinned maliciously and un-cocked the very pistol he was holding. "However...I think Jack needs some encouragement, t' leave 'is precious li'le ship behind." His tone was far more condescending than even the most heartless man would use against his token wife.

Jack smiled very faintly, though it twisted itself into a look of pure hatred as Barbossa tossed the gun over the railing. How he wished he could shoot the man with that pistol... Shaking his head, Jack took a deep breath and jumped off the plank. He would shoot the man with that pistol, if it was the last thing he did. He would not sleep until he had his revenge. Somehow he'd get off the island. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.

* * *

Of course, thinking one thing about a person right before jumping into the water is a lot easier than actually doing anything to that one person. By the time Jack'd retrieved the pistol and had surfaced again for air, the _Pearl_ was on its way to that island that no one was even sure where existed. He couldn't have shot Barbossa, even if he'd been the best shot in the world, for the gunpowder was now wet. Peachy...he couldn't shoot himself until that dried out. Cursing, Jack put the pistol in one of his hands and struggled to swim towards the small spit of land. It was rather difficult work, swimming with bound hands. He felt he deserved the struggle, so he didn't bother trying to untie the loose knots with his teeth. 

Once he reached the island, he felt no better. If anything, he felt worse. It was a small spit of land, to be sure, and he doubted it'd take more than half an hour to walk around the entire thing. Sighing, he turned to look back out at sea. There he saw his ship peacefully bobbing away from him...shrinking into the distance towards fabled treasures of Cortez himself. Part of him hoped that there would be a curse, for it would serve those bloody men right. Jack still couldn't believe that Bootstrap had said nothing. He'd even suggested in a round-about way that Jack just commit suicide. Great friend, he was. Jack would never trust anyone again. Of course...Jack would never get off this bloody island.

Cursing, he took a step forward and fell to the ground, lightly breathing in the salty sand. He couldn't even kill himself yet...had to wait for that pistol Barbossa'd thrown in the water to dry. That could take days...days of him just laying here, unable to wallow in anything but self-pity and hatred. His world had collapsed on him, and his heart was aching. It would never be repaired again.

He lay there for several hours until the waters started tickling his feet and filling his boots as the tides came in. He wouldn't have even gotten up if the gun wasn't going to get wet. That would never do...he couldn't shoot himself properly with a gun with wet gunpowder. A strong side of Jack wanted to get up and swim towards the _Pearl_ for revenge...but an overwhelming side of Jack knew he had to give up. There was no way he'd ever be able to stop Barbossa. The man had outwitted him, convinced his crew that he was unfit for anything...he was ruined. Even if he could get off this blasted island, there was no way he could regain the trust of a crew...

A bitter taste in his mouth, Jack slowly stood up and walked further inland, laying the gun and his compass next to a tree as he leaned against it and looked up. He could always hang himself...well, not really. They were all palm trees and had no branches. Perfect. He had to actually wait for that gunpowder to dry. How...depressing.

Sighing, Jack's hand found a pink shell in the grass near his body. His hands had always seemed to have a mind of their own, after all, and it soon started stroking the smooth finish of the decimated remains of a shell fish of some sort as he stared out at the ocean. The _Pearl_ was long gone. His hope for the future was long gone. Even Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't make it out of this one...

* * *

There were exactly thirty-two trees on this island. More than he would've expected...but he'd counted them five times already. The listless man of yesterday had suddenly turned into a man with unlimited energy. As he saw it...the faster he made himself hungry enough to die, the sooner he'd be off this wretched island. Of course...he had no idea where he'd go, after he died. Maybe he wouldn't go anywhere...but he'd been raised as a good Christian, and had always been taught that he'd go to Heaven if he was good and Hell if he was bad. Obviously he really hadn't been all that good...but at least in Hell, he'd have company of other miserable souls betrayed by their best friends and told to die on some small godforsaken spit of land. 

Frowning, Jack sat down next to the first tree he'd counted a few hours ago, near the east side of the island in about the middle. His throat was starting to get quite dry...but he hadn't noticed any water anywhere. The trees must only live off rain water...or managed to grow accustomed to the salty sea, because there surely wasn't any water bubbling up with life on the island. Maybe below the island...but he couldn't go there. His throat was already starting to get dry. Maybe the gunpowder was dry, now...

Wait a moment. That tree sounded funny. Jack blinked a few times and pulled his back straight, quickly knocking against the tree again. A slightly hollow noise reached his ears a few moments later. How could a tree be hollow? There was all sorts of stuff inside palm trees...wood, xylem, and phloem. They weren't empty. But this one sounded like it was. Curious.

He slowly stood up and knocked the tree again. Another hollow sound reached his ears. Someone had been on this island before...but why would they hollow out this specific tree? Perhaps it was those rumrunners he'd heard so much about. They used obscure islands like this one as caches. Maybe Lady Luck was shining down on him still...Jack doubted it, but it was always worth a try.

He took a few wobbly steps forward from the most hollow sounding part of the palm tree. There was another hollow sound...but it was coming from beneath his feet. Nearly shouting with glee, Jack dropped to his knees and traced over the ground. In a few moments, he found a square that obviously didn't belong there, as well as a slight handle. This was a cache...Fortune was smiling up at him. Grinning back down at the square as though it was Fortune, Jack lifted up the handle and actually shouted with glee when he noticed what was inside. Rum! And...it was fairly recent. Perhaps he could get off this island after all... Visions of revenge filled his head as he grabbed one of the brown bottles and popped the cork off. Well...if no one came, he could shoot himself after the food ran out. No worries. For now, he'd just enjoy the Caribbean sun on his forced vacation from his life. Death _was_ always an option.

**

* * *

Wanda**: Of course you have the time to finish! -snuggles- I've missed getting your reviews...honest, I have. You were with me at the beginning, an' then you just disappeared...no matter, though. Thanks for leaving a review!  
**Eccentric Banshee**: Well, Sara, if you could stand Barbossa, you'd be glad he mutinied and left Jack on that island to go crazy...not that he wasn't crazy to begin with, of course. But he will be much crazier after this whole thing.  
That is the question...if I'll continue or not. Since I had such a hard time writing this chapter...I'm going to vote in the favor of me not continuing for a while. He's going to be working through some major emotional stuff...and I'd really rather not deal with it. So, I'm taking a break from his past to work on the other two stories I've been neglecting...  
I lurved Finding Neverland! Of course...I wasn't crying, because I'm not the type of girl that cries in a movie...but I almost cried. I'm seeing it again on Monday, with me mum. Can't wait. And I can't wait for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Looks more like the books than the old one does...Dahl had some serious issues.  
Thanks for the support! -huggles and tosses cookie-  
**Alteng**: Yes, Jack seriously gets himself into a lot of messes. Of course, I couldn't very well make his story end happy, ya know. That'd be changing the movie...and changing the movie is almost like changing the Bible. And I didn't really picture it happening the way I wrote it, either...but it slipped out of my fingers this way. Of course, I can't be accurate on everything I say, because Disney isn't going to use my fanfiction as a basis for his rather illustrious history, unfortunately...  
Thanks for the review and constant support! Though, I think you should update your tale about Ragetti an' Pintel...those two are always a blast to hear about. -nods-  
**Aliana Archer**: Barbossa is a weasel. And so evil that the devil himself spat him back out. Evil Barbossa. -stabs- He doesn't deserve the _Pearl_. And I did have a Merry Christmas...I hope you did too. Thanks for your review and support!  
**Jack**: I don't think roses come in either black or green...I could do some research, I suppose...and yes, you did figure out the whole Barbossa and Rosalyn thing. I leave hints in my chappies, amazingly, to things that will happen in the future. I'm sorry it took me so long to update and that I haven't said anything to you at all...but I've been going through horrible writer's block and rather bad moods for the past few weeks...Thanks for the review, though.  
**darkmistylagoon**: The prologue will all tie in, I swear. And we'll learn who gave Jack the small strip of paper with the bearings on it that caused him so much grief. The creepy man who ate the man who didn't like spiders will soon be kinda unmasked.  
All good things must come to an end, Misty. And I did have to write it this way, or I'd be changing the story. And that's evil, changing the story... And...I really wish there was something I could do to make you feel better about your current situation, poppet...but I'm out of ideas. Thanks for reviewing, though.  
**CrazyPirateGirl**: I couldn't end it with the last chapter. Nope...that would've been too horrendously long... And you can slap Barbossa now. I give you permission. He's a bona fide creep, he is. Thanks for the review and the encouragement!  
**sunkist3208**: If only I could sell the stories, Whitney. I'd have to have a legal battle with Disney...so, I'm not ever going to try and get it published. But, you do have the original story of mine. So, if I'm ever a famous writer, you can say...ha! I knew her when she first started out. And I've got the handwritten copy of the first two chapters to prove it! Of course, I have two of the first chapter, oddly enough...dunno why I did that. Oh, wait, yes I do. For a while there, I was actually going to explain the relationship between Rosalyn and Richard in the prologue...but I obviously didn't.  
Mutiny does suck. And the prologue will tie in. I have left some hints...and it won't be quite as shocking as you think it will be...  
**padme17**: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it!  
**orcachick2005**: Well, that's because the first time you tried to leave a review, fanfiction was down. Evil fanfiction..  
Barbossa did hate Jack's mother...but he was a man, and a lonely one at that...and I'm fairly sure, at first, it was sorta a rape thing...then, when he got what he wanted...he used her. I think that Barbossa convinced Rosalyn that she'd never see Calico Jack if he didn't drop word to visit her...  
And as for that "contemptibly" thing...well, since Dreamweaver said it was spelled correctly, I assumed it was. Or maybe Dreamweaver said it was spelled incorrectly and I decided to make up a word anyway. I like making up words.  
Earwax is disgusting. Which is why I chose to use that phrase..and earwax on toast sounds disgusting. -makes disgusted face to emphasize point-  
They couldn't throw him overboard straightaway...it had to be at night. There's a line in the script (or maybe it was from the gameboy game) that said it was near sunset. Since the initial mutiny took place sometime in the morning after breakfast, I had to have time pass. Plus, they had to get near an island to drop him off... Thanks for the compliments. I like getting an over inflated ego.  
And...since you were the first to leave your review, you get a loverly unicorn statue thingy that leans over the lip of a desk. Tis pretty and shiny. 


	27. Rumrunners

Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this. 

AN (1/18): I fully intended on just writing an epilogue and calling it good...however, I couldn't just leave Jack on that island with no hope. That would be a bad ending to a book...though, I think more sad endings should occur...but he needs to be saved. And Bootstrap needs to be dropped to the depths...redeem himself (which was pointed out to me by a truly great RPer...).  
And the cereal reference before...well, I'll make another one here, and say that it's a Malt-O-Meal brand...  
There's lots of other references in this particular chapter...see if you can figure 'em out!

Chapter 26: Rumrunners

"Is this a ship which I see before me, sails toward me location?" A pair of dark brown eyes blinked several times as a pair of hands slowly rubbed at the dark eyes and smeared kohl onto the bags underneath the sleep deprived man's eyes. Surely he was imagining things...there couldn't be a ship here so soon. Nope...he hadn't been punished long enough. It had only been three days, after all, and he'd barely made a dent in the supply of rum he'd miraculously found in a hole in the ground. Perhaps the rumrunners were here to pick up their cache...hmmm...that was probably a bad thing. He'd be in trouble for tasting their wares. But...he was too drunk to actually be seeing anything properly, right?

He hoped so. It'd be very difficult to convince someone to take him off this island since he'd been eating their wares. A miracle. But...if anyone deserved a miracle, it was him, right? Jack Sparrow was captain no more...a man rejected by those he thought were friends. The sun certainly wasn't helping his troubled mind as he lay on the beach, lovingly stroking the pistol Barbossa'd given him nearly once an hour. He still had a way out...especially if those sails turned out to be clouds. Jack really wasn't sure if he was actually seeing a ship or not. Yesterday afternoon, Jack had been positive he'd seen his mother swimming in the water right next to the shore, a look of complete worry on her face as she struggled to get her water-soaked dress out of the clutches of seaweed. He'd been unable to move and help her, for his logical side knew that there was nothing out in that water but sharks. Of course...after the vision of his mother disappeared, he saw a mermaid that looked like his sister swimming towards shore. Perhaps the women of his childhood just wanted to bother him for giving up. The mermaid-Jodi had sung softly to try and lure him into the water. But he'd resisted. It was absurd, thinking that Jodi was half fish...he knew she wasn't. And these sails on the water were just another manifestation of his worry that he'd actually have to pull a trigger on himself...while Jack didn't feel like living, he didn't really feel like dying. He wanted revenge much more than anything else now.

He sighed softly and reached over to the pistol once more. It really was a fine piece of work, for it was Barbossa's personal pistol. It was rather remarkable that Barbossa'd actually given it to Jack. Unless, of course, Barbossa planned on raiding the island later to pry it from Jack's dead hands and to see how he'd finally decided to end it all. But Jack wouldn't give Barbossa that satisfaction...no. He definitely wouldn't. He couldn't kill himself, for that would mean that Barbossa really won.

"I swear they're gettin' closer," Jack commented with a yawn a few moments later as his gaze drifted from the pink seashell held in his other hand back out to sea. This hallucination was very realistic...Jack could almost see the men going up into the rigging and such to get the ship to come to a stop after they dropped an anchor in. It was a fine ship, a flute flying English colors. Flutes were a very popular ship because they had more cargo space than other smaller ships. Ideal for a rumrunner not wanting to draw attention to himself. Of course, Jack was still convinced it wasn't a real ship. How could it be?

Even when he saw a skiff filled with several crewmembers headed towards the beach, Jack refused to believe it was actually someone that could be his salvation. Surely he was doomed to die on this island...there was no hope of him ever getting the _Pearl_ back from Barbossa now. Not after that humiliation.

However...even a depressed Jack Sparrow couldn't deny the fact that there was a voice in the air. Someone was shouting about seeing a man on shore...and was ordering his men to get their guns out. As if Jack was really a threat...actually, that helped him muster the courage to actually sit up as the skiff neared the shore and was dragged onto the beach. Five rather swarthy individuals stepped off the skiff. They were clearly first-rate sailors, based on the way their hands were calloused and the tans they had. It was enough to make Jack nearly scowl and weep all at the same time.

A man sighed softly, putting his hand down lightly as his men aimed their pistols in preparation for killing the pillaging fox who'd obviously gotten into their supplies. He was the weathered captain of the _Albatross_, a rumrunner extraordinaire. His men instantly put their pistols down as he approached the squashed looking figure in front of him. To this rugged captain with dark hair and even darker eyes, Jack looked like some sort of crushed exotic bird. He felt just a pang of pity, as though he could tell the hardships Jack had gone through. He shoved the pang out of his mind, however. He couldn't afford to be sympathetic. "What exactly are ye doin' wiv me supplies?" he asked tersely. It was mostly for show...he could tell that the man before him was on the brink of losing his mind.

"Well," Jack responded, allowing the barest hint of a smirk to grace his features, "I was dropped on this island a few days ago an' decided t' explore my realm, so to speak. Me first mate thought'd be funny t' make me governor of this 'ere isle...so, I suppose the question is, what are you tryin' t' do wiv my supplies?"

The captain smiled slightly and shook his head. How could a man so close to utter destruction still respond with such arrogance? "I'm afraid that you're being replaced, governor," he replied, shaking his head as his men laughed. "Get up." He pulled his pistol out of his belt loop, cocked it, and pointed it at Jack. "I don't take kindly to smart asses on me island. This is our cache."

"Figured as much," Jack replied with a chuckle as he lazily got up to his feet. Were these men really here? How he wanted to reach out and touch them... Of course, even he wasn't daft enough to do that. "Tiger, tiger burning bright in the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye dare frame yer fearful symmetry?" A bit of random nonsense...to see if perhaps the men would melt into one of the fierce tigers he'd seen in India. They didn't, however, and Jack was starting to convince himself that maybe they really existed.

"How long 'ave ye been 'ere, boy?" the captain asked, frowning at Jack's chuckle. He was supposed to be intimidating, not funny...how this man expected to get off this island by stealing supplies was really quite beyond him. Sure, he looked like a squashed bird...but he wasn't against ending their misery. It was rather evident what sort of captain he was based on the two deep slashes across his cheek. It almost looked like someone had done that deliberately. He had a patch resting on top of his left eye. It was quite a mystery as to what exactly was behind the patch. Had he lost the eye? Had he merely injured the eye? Was it for show? It certainly didn't make him look like a person to kid around with, though, and Jack was certainly playing with potential fire as one of the captain's crew members with lazy brown hair spilling into his face tightened his grip around his sword and his pistol at the same time.

Boy? Jack smiled slightly at the man who was about his height. He wasn't that much younger than this mystery captain...well, he could be, but it wasn't like he was some cabin boy or something. "Three days," he responded almost mutely as a man with blonde hair with dark roots and a green shirt shook his gun menacingly. Did it really matter?

Only three days? Why was Jack reacting so horribly now? It'd make more sense if he'd been here a week...two weeks...but three days? This man seemed to have nearly lost his mind. He wasn't reacting at all worried about the fact that there were hostile men on the island that would probably kill him. Perhaps the sun was baking his sense out. "Ah. What'd they put you 'ere for?"

"Cap'n Swarthy...is all this really necessary?" the man with the blonde hair asked suddenly. He didn't like having all these questions...the man obviously had done something wrong, and should be dealt with accordingly. They didn't give men rides if they stole from their caches, after all.

"Quiet, Klaus," Swarthy said warningly, breaking his one-eyed gaze from Jack for just a moment to reprimand his over-zealous quartermaster.

Jack glanced between the two of them and waited for the looks of supreme distrust on both their faces to vanish for the most part. He smiled very briefly and slowly said, "Decided tha' they'd like treasure more'n a captain, I suppose. Thought tha' I wasn't good enough t' be captain anymore. You find a glimmer o' happiness in this world, there's always someone who wants t' destroy it."

"Very true," Swarthy agreed, a frown on his face as he slowly lowered the pistol. He'd experienced that dreadful feeling of complete abandonment. Who on earth hadn't? "Ye know...the punishment for stealing from our cache is death. Unless ye 'ave somethin' of value t' trade for your life."

Of course. Jack frowned slightly and seemed to be looking around the island. "Well...I could give ye unlimited access t' me island, mate. Wouldn' even 'ave t' pay t' stow stuff away 'ere." He seemed genuinely to think it belonged to him...

"Not acceptable, boy," Swarthy responded with a slight frown. "Can't ye come up wiv anything better? If we killed ye, we could take yer island wiv no problems a' all." He sighed as his men laughed arrogantly. "Wha's yer name, lad?"

"Jack Sparrow," Jack despondently replied. How dare they threaten to take his island away? It was his...and his alone, until he figured out how to get off. It suddenly dawned on Jack, however, that the rumrunners could get him off this godforsaken spit of land... There were murmurs among the five men as they placed where exactly they'd heard the almost legendary name.

* * *

"Stuff it," Pintel growled as he kicked belligerently at the bars of one of the cells in the brig. He'd been sitting watch all bloody day, listening to Bootstrap Bill moan and groan about the way they'd treated Jack and such. It was enough to drive a simple man up the wall, hearing the same argument day in and day out. Captain Barbossa was still deciding what sort of punishment to put on the man who seemed to be trying to incite a mutiny. 

"I'm just saying...we reacted a bi' harshly," Bootstrap insisted, brushing an errant strand of his hair back behind his ear. He looked absolutely wretched, but most of that was from emotional turmoil. He'd convinced Jack to go without a fight...accomplished his goal, really, but he felt like a complete idiot and turncoat. He'd abandoned Jack when Jack needed him most because of Lauren and his son...they needed a husband and father, respectively. Sure...he knew Jack had a remote chance of getting off the island. But it was a chance, after all, and Jack Sparrow seemed to have all the luck.

"No we din'," Pintel insisted, opening one of his yellowed eyes and glaring at Bootstrap. "He would've brought us t' our death...ye know tha' 'e wasn't a sound captain. Din' know right from left. Cap'n Barbossa did 'im a favor, really, by cuttin' the apron strings, so to speak. Besides...no' yer place t' decide wha's right an' wha's wrong." The eye closed again as he leaned back in the simple chair. Maybe Barbossa didn't realize how boring this really was...sitting here.

"If we'd kept wiv Jack, he probably would've realized there was really a curse," Bootstrap remarked quietly, putting his hand on one of the bars. He hated this cage...hated waiting for his punishment. It was only now that he was starting to realize what sort of Hell he'd helped the others put Jack through. If he was uncomfortable in this cage...he could only imagine how Jack must've felt.

"Stuff it, Bootstrap!" Pintel exclaimed, kicking at the cell and squashing Bootstrap's fingers against the metal. He probably broke a few...but Bootstrap could feel no pain. Pintel couldn't even feel the bones grating against the metal through his boot. Of all the curses in the world...they'd ended up with one of the worst. Cursed to live forever and feel nothing...while that didn't sound too bad, it got terribly old really fast. They were currently on a mission to find every single one of those 882 identical coins and to return them. Barbossa was certain that that would make it so they would be un-cursed. And since he was sure, the crew was sure. All except for Bootstrap. He thought that they all deserved this horrible fate of not feeling anything at all... and suspected there was more to their redemption than merely righting what was wrong with the situation.

Bootstrap smirked very sarcastically at Pintel. "No." An argument between the two was obviously brewing as Hector Barbossa himself slowly descended the stairs to the brig, a smirk on his face. Bootstrap turned to face the man, a look of almost feral hatred on his face. "Have ye finally decided, then?" He smiled complacently, resembling Jack for just a split second as Barbossa calmly surveyed him.

"Aye, lad, I 'ave. You're of no use t' us here, ye know. Sowin' discord among me crew like some sort of mutineer. I've put up wiv ye long enough." Barbossa smiled malevolently at the man as he slowly walked towards the cell. "Come on, then...meet yer martyrdom."

"You do realize I won' die," Bootstrap quipped as he eagerly waited for them to open the cell. It was true, for Ketchum had been shot a month before in the chest and hadn't died. That's when even Ragetti and Pintel had realized they were immortal beings. Cursed, yes, but immortal.

"Aye, I do," Barbossa replied as Pintel unlocked the cell door and grabbed Bootstrap's arm. It only took a few moments for them to reach the decks of the _Pearl_. She certainly looked as though she'd seen better days. The sails had been replaced with black cloth some time back, but there were numerous holes that Barbossa didn't think were necessary to fix. Who needed sails without holes on a ship that was crewed by the un-holiest men in the Caribbean? It didn't seem to impede her speed, anyway.

There was a cannon sitting near the plank Barbossa had forced Jack off all those months ago. It seemed to be staring at Bootstrap ominously, mocking him for ever joining this miserable crew. It was a miserable crew with yellowed eyes staring at him with more malice then he would see if he ran into a woman's tea party with a gun in his hand and if he'd grabbed the hostess's daughter to fulfill some lewd desire. Shaking his head, Bootstrap allowed himself to be pushed right next to the cannon. "Goin' t' shoot me overboard, then?" he asked with what was almost a sneer.

"Nay," Barbossa responded with another malevolent smile. "We're goin' t' strap your bootstraps t' the cannon an' toss ye overboard. Can't 'ave mutineers on me ship." The crew laughed lightly, gleefully jumping to the task of tying his legs so tight to the cold cannon that he couldn't move at all. In a few minutes, they wheeled the cannon towards the plank and lifted it after a quick count of three.

Bootstrap was watching the procession numbly. They were going to drop him to Davy Jones' Locker? With a cannon? If they did get the curse lifted...he'd drown under probably a mile of water. If not...he'd probably be stuck for at least a few years. Good thing he'd sent that medallion off to Will a few weeks previously, before he'd been placed in the brig. Barbossa would never be able to find that last piece, and he might be able to unstrap his bootstraps from the cannon and find his way to land. The thought of such a long journey underwater was frightning...for Bootstrap barely knew how to swim. Of course...he had to help Jack, for he had to help his oldest and truest friend get his ship back.

"Off ye go, then," Barbossa said triumphantly as he personally kicked the whole contraption of misery into the water and Bootstrap began his perilous journey below. The light blue waters quickly faded into near black as the cannon pulled Bootstrap down to the ocean floor. His journey to survive was just beginning...

**

* * *

CrazyPirateGirl**: Well, tis really over now...except for the whole epilogue thing. I hope you liked the closure of this chapter...well, the quasi-closure. And no...it wasn't a reference to Apple Jacks. Keep trying to guess, though! I never realized that you could think that it was Apple Jacks...anyway, I've got a whole slew of other references in this chappie...I'll name 'em all in the epilogue, if no one catches all of 'em.  
**darkmistylagoon**: Thank you so much for your constant support! I'm glad you liked the last chatper...it was very hard to write. This one was a lot easier. Of course, Jack is pretty much insane, if you can't tell...he's got some issues to work out. And you picked up on the Ides of March! Woo! Go Misty! I was going to say Ides of March in the chapter...but thought that would be too obvious...anyway, thanks for the review!  
**Aliana Archer**: Nope...the reference wasn't to Captain Crunch. Good guess, though. And the 15th of March is the Ides of March, and is in Julius Caesar. Thank you for the review, and I hope that you dislike Barbossa...  
Jack: I'm glad you like the end. And...go ahead an' replace me. I don't mind... the chances of us ever actually meeting are slim to none. And he is now off. Good for Jack...his mind is all crazy, if you didn't notice...Thanks for the review.  
**orcachick2005**: Sleeping in is uber fun! There was this one time I slept in until 5 PM...yeah, my mum thought I was dead or something. And I had lots of interesting dreams that I promptly forgot when I woke up. I hate getting up...  
Barbossa does have a very strong point. Jack doesn't act like men of that century did...and certainly doesn't act like a pirate. He's a gentleman rogue pirate, according to Johnny...and this is bound to change his attitude a bit. He seems rather...paranoid, in the movie, doesn't he? And afraid to tell anyone anything...  
The Apple Jacks is a good one...but not the one intended. You've probably never heard of this particular brand, unfortunately...so, if you can find the most odd references made in this chappie, I'll put you in my next story again...  
I'm glad you think I used enough imagery...I get worried, sometimes that I leave out the important details. I'm odd like that, though. And this chapter probably doesn't make much sense...but that's because it's the result of sleep deprivation. If you have any suggestions, feel free t' make 'em. I value your opinion.  
**sunkist3208**: March 15th is the Ides of March and the day that Julius Caesar was stabbed...supposedly. And the cereal reference is really hard to catch...I doubt anyone will get it. Since you were the first to review...you get a loverly picture of a unicorn! It's all shiny and such...and the unicorn is standing in the sea.  
And yay! I lurve ocelots! And the cockroaches...they sound scary... Thanks for the review an' constant support! 


	28. Centaurs

Disclaimer: I do not have permission t' be aboard...I mean...to write this. Sorry, mate. 

AN (1/20): Well...this is the magic chapter that ties in my creepy prologue to the rest of the story. I can't believe that this is over...but, it is. I'm going to leave Jack's past alone for a bit. I need a break from writing...got to find my muse again.

References in last chapter:  
"Is this a ship which I see before me, sails toward me location?"-Macbeth (sorta).  
"pink seashell"- This is the cereal reference. There's pink marshmallow shells in Marshmallow Maties.  
"asses... island"- Pinocchio. They get turned into donkeys on an island  
"Tiger, tiger burning bright in the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye dare frame yer fearful symmetry?"- William Blake. Reference to Dead Man, where Nobody mistakes Jack as William Blake. I'd be surprised if you got that one...  
"one of the captain's crew members with lazy brown hair spilling into his face"- Sam from Benny and Joon or Cry-Baby from Cry-Baby or J. M. Barrie from Finding Neverland. Basically any Johnny Depp character will work here...  
"a man with blonde hair with dark roots and a green shirt"- Morton Rainey, Secret Window.  
"Cap'n Swarthy"- Captain Swarthy, aka J. M. Barrie from Finding Neverland.  
"Klaus"-Klaus Badelt, composer of the Pirates of the Caribbean; The Curse of the Black Pearl soundtrack.  
"You find a glimmer o' happiness in this world, there's always someone who wants t' destroy it."- J. M. Barrie in Finding Neverland said this to his good friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, played by the man who is Professor Quirrell in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone  
Considering the fact I don't often do things intentionally like that...that's quite a bit of references. Kudos to anyone who spotted any of 'em. Poor Jack...he was found by different variations of himself...

Epilogue: Centaurs

A trembling squat man entered a room full of cobwebs, cockroaches, broken chairs, and decrepit dreams of some artist by the name of Caspar. There were numerous gruesome paintings covered in cobwebs that were randomly placed around the walls, almost like someone had splattered a large paintbrush on a clean piece of paper and had filled in the white spaces with couches and love seats that had definitely seen better days. The cockroaches vanished as soon as the candlelight neared them. The candlelight was from a strip of wax with a wick the man was holding with shaking hands as he worked his way across the rather creepy and eerie room. This room didn't see enough people, and he could almost feel the presence of Caspar's rumored lover who killed herself after seeing his "portrait" of her. Disturbed minds are often the most brilliant out there. Caspar's work truly was one of a master painter. Pity he was now dead.

Of course, the man walking in the room really didn't care who painted the numerous things on the wall. This room was almost as stuffy and overbearing as it had been several years ago when it had last been visited by the squat man and his bad temperament. Of course, in the course of those years, not much had really happened. Only one or two other people with odd characteristics had meandered their way through here to meet a terrible death in a secret room...which was why he was trembling so bad. What if his fate was the same as all those men before him?

Wait a moment. The squat man suddenly stopped walking towards the hidden door on the opposite side of the room. Why was he so scared of dying? He couldn't 't even feel the candle wax that splattered all over his fingers now that he wasn't moving any longer. There was no reason for him to be afraid of what waited him down below. Laughing softly (for he was still a terrified wretch, though loathe to admit it even to himself), he resumed his hunched over walk to the wall that apparently had no opening. He knocked loudly on it three times and waited for a door to almost magically appear and open. When it had wearily done so, the man stepped underneath a great stone arch and started his way almost noisily down the spiral stair case, as if announcing his presence to all the spiders laying in wait of insects, rodents, and other oddities that managed to find their squirmy way in here.

He walked over to a large door that looked as though it hadn't been opened since the building was last occupied by the artist Caspar. Frowning slightly, he knocked a specific pattern into the dusty wood. It sounded similar to an opening measure to a popular sea shanty, but it is always hard to tell exactly what a musician is merely tapping into wood, after all. All thoughts as to what he'd been tapping into the wood abruptly disappeared as a horrible screech bounced its way up the staircase. It sounded worse than fifty teachers running long nails across chalkboards as the narrow confines of the hallway amplified it.

Shuddering, the man stepped inside a curiously shaped room with exactly five sides. The red draperies seemed to be staring back at his green eyes with an intensity only matched by the eyes of a centaur statue in the middle of the pentagon, resting on top of a pillar of white marble. The centaur itself was made from obsidian, and seemed to be glowing in the firelight from the torches that adorned the wall. It's emerald eyes were glaring malevolently towards the man. He was instantly worried. This hadn't been here before...what exactly was going on? There was still a picture hanging on the pillar...but it had a white centaur with those same creepy emerald eyes. The obsidian statue was much larger than the man remembered from before. Of course, he wasn't exactly positive there had been a statue here before.

"You reek of curse," a man in dark robes said harshly as he sniffed at the perfumed air. Though his face couldn't be seen, one could tell he was glaring reprovingly at the man.

"Sorry," the man muttered in response, his rotten teeth that'd tried to be repaired with gold glinting as he tried to close his mouth from the overwhelming sense of dread and awe enveloping his body like a pool of liquid lava in the core of a volcano. He couldn't feel anything physically...but he was in the presence of pure evil and could definitely feel that.

"Excuses don't mean a thing," the voice responded with a high laugh smelling of nightmares and rubbish bins. He seemed to still be glaring at the squat man, even though the robed figure was now turned to face the centaur statue framed in place with five gigantic marble pillars next to the walls. "Do you like my new addition?"

"Uh..." the squat man was certainly at a loss for words as he glanced towards that malevolent statue again. It filled him with even more dread, and he started trembling once more. Those cold stone eyes seemed to be watching him...

"Of course, you probably don't realize what it means." The voice seemed less harsh as the robed figure turned back to face the squat man once more. "Do you, Sam?"

The man called Sam slowly shook his head. "Sorry, sir...I don' see wha' this means. Tis a bi' of an improvement from jus' the etchin', though."

"Fool. This _is_ the etching." His hand waved towards the statue, his robe trailing after like some exotic dancer's almost invisible sleeve teasing her potential customer's face.

Sam blinked a few times, clearly not all that sure what to make of the statue. "How can it be the etchin', eh? It isn't flat?" he finally asked a few moments later, cowering slightly as he awaited possible anger and a response. Sam knew he shouldn't ask stupid questions around this hooded figure who enjoyed having others do his busywork for him and ate those who didn't do as he asked.

The man probably rolled his eyes underneath the dark hood. "You really live up to your nickname, you porcine swine. Stout Sam the stalwart...you really should be called Stupid Sam the sycophant." He sighed and shook his head. The hood fell off, revealing a remarkably handsome man with curly blonde hair and a very strong chin. His eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald as well, but he had no pupils. As Stout Sam inhaled sharply out of fright, the man quickly put the hood back on his head. "It was done by magic, insolent fool," he said, clearly a little agitated himself now that someone had actually seen what he looked like.

"Ah." Stout Sam nodded slightly and looked down at his weather-worn hands. What was a man as handsome (well, the eyes were hideous) as that doing hiding down here? Was it any of his business?

"No." The man's smile was faintly visible. "Now, did he take it?"

Stout Sam frowned the man read his thoughts? Probably. But he'd still feel better saying it out loud. "I slipped the paper in'o his pockets on tha' island." Stout Sam bit his lower lip.

"You let that man actually commit mutiny! You imbecile!" The hooded figure was apparently angry, for his chest was heaving in and out, revealing a dark blue shirt underneath all those robes. He could read Stout Sam's thoughts, which was probably for the best. If Stout Sam had to tell everything...well, he would've just lied.

"There wasn' much I could really do!" Stout Sam defended, his feet taking a defensive stance on the stone floor as he tried to ignore the eyes of the centaur statue. They seemed to be watching him much like a cat watches a hole it saw a mouse go into just moments before; never blinking and constantly moving just in case something happens really fast.

"Well, you could've tried something," the man spit out venomously. His hand was raised and he looked just about ready to slap Stout Sam when he calmed himself. "No matter...I can fix this."

"You can?" Stout Sam asked, cowering slightly out of fear. When he cowered down to get closer to the ground, he gave the appearance of being wider than he was tall. It was just an illusion, for while he was a portly fellow, he certainly wasn't a corpulent man unable to move around. You couldn't be all that fat on a pirate ship, after all.

"Of course I can. Now be quiet. And leave, before I decide to lock you up for your ineptitude." The man's voice wasn't as harsh as it had been before. Now it was almost a silky thing, as soft as the red silks from the Orient draping the walls.

"Right, sir," Stout Sam mumbled. He was only too glad to get out of the room and nearly tripped on his own feet as he scurried towards the door. There was an odd grinding noise in the curiously shaped room as he neared the ancient squeaky door in desperate need of some oil or animal fat for its hinges. He glanced around for just a moment, absolutely stunned to see the robed figure disappearing into the floor. Curious...what exactly was going on? Stout Sam asked no questions of those who could kill him, and now was no exception, even though he was cursed. Sure, he couldn't die...but who would want to live forever with a man like that watching your every moment until whatever evil plans he was hatching could come to fruit and blossom, spreading evil around the world?

As he opened the squeaky door, there was one prominent question on his mind: Why had he been told to slip that piece of paper in Jack Sparrow's pocket, anyway?

**

* * *

Jack**: I swear I typed up a response to your last review...must've gotten lost between Word and Dreamweaver. And I will eventually update Death of a Blacksmith...but it puts me in a very bad mood and I'm already in a bad mood...  
Thanks for the compliments...I'm not really sure how he got off that island, but I think Swarthy felt sorry for him. And his subconscious probably is trying to get him to drown himself, but Jack obviously can't die before the movie. Wouldn't work that way, really.  
**CrazyPirateGirl**: Aye, that's how you spell epilogue. Funny word, really. As for Bootstrap getting to land before the curse is removed...well, that's really up for debate until Pirates of the Caribbean 2 comes out, isn't it? Thank you for your compliments and constant support!  
**Aliana Archer**: You got the cereal reference! -banners stream down- The Albatross is a short story, I believe, but I didn't intentionally make a reference to it...never read it, ya see. Jack was never the same after he was marooned...it isn't the explanation because of all the odd motions, remember, but he did go "mad with the heat". And Bootstrap very well could be alive... Thank you for the review! Since you were the first to leave your sentiments, you walk away with a lovely pair of fake black pearl earrings! 


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